Worthy women of our first century :

.^1

1

Hi . s

1

.

f ka c,

.

y/y,

i

.WORTHY WOMEN

-

OF

OUR FIRST CENTURY.

EDITED BY

MRS. O. J. WISTER

AND

MISS AGNES IRWIN.

PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.

1877.

Copyrighted, 1877, by the " WOMEN'S CENTENNIAL EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE."

PREFACE.

THE volume here offered to the public is so far from fulfill-
ing the hopes of the editors that they think it due to those
under whose auspices it is published to give an idea of what
it was meant to be, and of the causes of its partial failure.
The work was undertaken by the desire of the Women's De-
partment of the Centennial Commission. They wished to
connect their own labors with a record of the lives of Ameri-
can women in earlier times ; to show what they had been and
effected under the difficulties, domestic, social, and political,
which are to be found in all new countries and civilizations
while the roads are being made; to offer to their young coun-
trywomen honorable models and examples. The intention
was to collect a series of brief biographies, one for each of the
original States, so as to illustrate the very various conditions
and demands of life in the older parts of the country. The
choice of subjects in point of date ranged from the colonial
epoch to the last generation. It was not thought desirable
to include any one still living or but lately dead. This neces-
sarily excluded so many of the States that it confirmed the
limitation to the first, contemporaneous, thirteen. In order
that the work might not be too voluminous, each State was
restricted to one memoir. It was not requisite that the sub-
ject should have been a woman connected with Revolutionary
times or historical events, although especial interest attaches
to those who were. The conspicuous women of the Revolu-
tion, and indeed of America down almost to the present day,
had found biographers in Mrs. S. J. Hale and Mrs. E. F. Ellett.

3

4 PREFA CE.

Their notices are too short and sketchy to give a clear idea
of character and individuality ; but they had supplied a com-
plete register of names and events. All that we required,
therefore, was the lives of women of weight and mark, whose
influence was felt for good in their own circle, whether a wide
or a narrow one; who had thought and acted for themselves,
either in decisive public issues or in the even tenor of private
life. It was also earnestly wished that the memoir for each
State should be written by a woman from that State, that the
welded chain of the Pine- Tree flag might once more be held
by clasping hands, not the mailed grasp of men, but the not
less firm and sustaining hold of women ; that as this Centen-
nial Anniversary has reknit the bond of brotherhood through-
out the country, that of sisterhood should be drawn as close.
Such was the scheme. Every pains was taken to find out
proper heroines for the memoirs, and proper biographers, and
also to avoid unsuitable ones. The editors were engaged for
upwards of six months in corresponding with distinguished
and patriotic people all over the country to try and get the
information necessary to proceed upon. Then followed letters
to and from ladies in the thirteen States, which, if they could
be published, would form a most interesting and entertain-
ing collection. Still, this did not succeed in bringing about
the object completely. Mrs. Gillespie, the President of the
Women's Department of the Centennial Commission, in an
appeal which she sent forth last autumn, and which was cir-
culated throughout the country, begged for biographies of
eminent and memorable women, but without calling out a single
satisfactory reply. There were great difficulties at every step.
In the first place, although the editors endeavored to be ex-
plicit as to what they wanted, the answers they received almost
invariably referred only to women of Revolutionary times, as
if none other were eligible. It then appeared that, although
the older States are rife with traditions and anecdote-s of
women who did honor to their place and day, material for
biographical notices of them, correspondence, journals, written
record of any sort, personal recollections, are wanting. One

PREFACE. 5

of the most noble and impressive female figures in our annals
is Faith Robinson, wife of the first and mother of the second
Governor Trumbull of Connecticut; but, beyond two or three
striking stories, and the veneration for her name and worth
which her children have transmitted to their descendants, no-
thing remains of her. Again, some of our most prominent and
admirable women did not belong either by birth or family to
the States with which their names are connected. Mrs. John
Jay, of the Revolution, who held so high a position in New
York, was a native of New Jersey ; Mrs. Judson, of our own
times, the missionary and martyr, if ever self-devotion de-
served the crown and palm-branch, hailed from New Hamp-
shire, but was born in Massachusetts. In other eminent in-
stances, such as that of Mrs. John Adams, the life and corre-
spondence are already so well known that to republish them
in any form would be a twice-told tale. In most cases, how-
ever, the ladies were not scribes : often in following up their
traces it was found that every scrap of writing had perished,
either through the jealousy of affection, or indifference, or
accident. In the South, where the circumstances of life are
more picturesque than along the rest of the Atlantic coast, —
where romantic situations and heroic incidents are more fre-
quent in feminine existence, owing to the solitude and remote-
ness of plantations accessible only by wood-roads or lonely
rivers, — where, too, the peculiar responsibilities of slavery fell
heavily upon the women of the master's family, developing the
administrative ability and qualities of housekeeper and nurse
in a signal degree, — the practice of keeping private papers
was general; but fire has always been the enemy of those
frame houses, with their open chimney-places, pine torches,
and careless servitors, and the war swept off most of their
remaining archives, public and private. Besides, it has been
with our recollections as with our relics: nations, like men,
when they are young, forget that they will ever grow old,
and learn to prize mementos of their earlier time. There has
been from the first a lamentable destruction of what were
really national heirlooms, to which the approach of the Cen-

6 PREFA CE.

tenary first called general attention ; and so it has been with
reminiscences. Our people had not begun to remember.

These are the principal obstacles we have had to en-
counter. On the other hand, there has been everywhere the
warmest interest in the undertaking, — ready sympathy from
those to whom we have applied, and help where it was to
give. Unfortunately for some of the memoirs, those best
qualified to prepare them were too much taken up with other
duties to do so. But the ladies to whom application was made
exerted themselves to find able substitutes. Many of those
who undertook the task have been hampered by ill health or
the pressure of other claims, but their researches and inquiries
have been as thorough as if they had been writing history.
We are particularly indebted to the families of the women
chosen as representatives, for their willingness to allow the
use of the material they possess and for their active assistance
in collecting more. We owe hearty thanks for advice or aid
to Colonel T. W. Higginson, Mrs. Oliver Hubbard, of New
York, Mrs. M. P. Cutts, of Brattleboro', Lloyd P. Smith, Esq.,
of Philadelphia, Mrs. Catherine Pennington, of New Jersey.
In regard to the memoir for Pennsylvania the writer must
express her gratitude to the Logan family and connections
generally, most especially to Mrs. John Dickinson Logan,
who copied from the diary of her husband's grandmother, to
which only near relations have access, all the extracts given
from it, and pages more not quoted, from which the picture
of the heroine's character and life has been completed.

Nevertheless, with all this effort and this encouragement,
we have only six sketches to offer as the result. Nor have
we in all of these the living personal representation we hoped
would be presented in every case : the scantiness of material
made that impossible. Should the volume, such as it is, find
general favor, it may be the means of obtaining biographies
from the remaining States. If suitable ones be sent, as we
trust they may, a second volume will be published.

PHILADELPHIA, October, 1876.

CONTENTS.

STATE. SUBJECT. AUTHOR. PAGE

VIRGINIA. . . . MRS. T. M. RANDOLPH. . . Miss S. N. RANDOLPH . 9
NEW YORK. . . MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. . . Miss S. F. COOPER , . 71
MASSACHUSETTS. . MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. . . Miss ELIZABETH HOAR. 113
NEW HAMPSHIRE. WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. MRS. FRANCIS W. FISKE. 229
SOUTH CAROLINA. MRS. REBECCA MOTTE. . . A LADY OF S. CAROLINA 259
PENNSYLVANIA. . DEBORAH LOGAN MRS. OWEN J. WISTER . 279

WORTHY WOMEN

OF

OUR FIRST CENTURY.

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

AMID scenery of almost unsurpassed beauty in the central
part of Virginia, rises the modest height of Monticello. There
are few points in the surrounding country from which its
graceful profile cannot be seen, and the " little mountain" is
pointed out as the object of greatest interest in every land-
scape in which it appears in that lovely region. To its summit
many a tourist wends his way, and, in spite of the ruin,
the desecration, which mark its present condition, still finds
traces there of the statesman, the philosopher, and the man
of taste.

But it is not as the home of the great man in either of these
characters that our attention shall be directed to this classic
spot in these pages, but rather as the birthplace and loved
and lost home of his daughter, — she who as a child was his
only comforter in the great sorrow of his life, who in maturer
years was his intimate friend and companion, and whose pres-
ence lent to his home its greatest charm, as her love and her
sympathy were his greatest solace in the troubles which so
clouded the evening of his eventful life.

MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH, daughter of Thomas and
Martha Jefferson, was born at Monticello, September 27, 1772.
Her mother, Martha Wayles, was first married to Bathurst

9

10 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Skelton, who dying two years after this marriage, she married,
four years later, January i, 1772, Thomas Jefferson. His biog-
raphers have given an account of the gay wedding-journey
of over a hundred miles, from the bride's home below Rich-
mond, to Monticello, which began in a carriage and under
propitious skies, but the last eight miles of which was per-
formed on horseback and through a deep snow after sunset.

Mrs. Jefferson is said to have been a singularly beautiful
woman, and a person of great intelligence and strength of
character; and certainly, if the attractions of a woman can be
measured by the love borne her by her husband, hers must
have been great indeed, for never was a wife loved with more
passionate devotion than she was by Jefferson. There was
no sacrifice too great for him to make for her ; and when her
health first gave signs of giving way, an appointment abroad,
or, indeed, any office which could take him from her side,
was positively refused. Her health was extremely delicate
during several years ; and nearly a year before her death, Jef-
ferson speaks in one of his letters of his " perpetual solicitude"
about her.

His anxiety was but too well founded, and after the birth
of her sixth child, in the spring of the year 1782, she sank
so rapidly that before the summer was gone her friends real-
ized that she could be spared to them but a few weeks longer.
The devotion, the clinging tenderness with which her husband
nursed her are well known. The little Martha was too young
to realize the calamity which was overhanging her. Mrs.
Jefferson had been too ill to see the child for some time, when
one day the latter was called in to see her mother dressed
and sitting up in a chair, as something that would please her.
Then for the first time the truth flashed on her as she saw
death stamped on the invalid's pale face; and so overcome
was she by the shock that she was obliged to leave the room.

It was during those last days of her life, when the pang of
separation was so keenly felt by both husband and wife, that
she spoke with emotion to her sisters of his devotion to her,
of the depth of her love for him, and of the period of their

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 1 1

married life as one of unalloyed happiness, which no cloud
between them had ever risen to dim. The closing scene came
at last, and on the 6th of September, as the gentle invalid
breathed her last, her husband was borne fainting from the
bedside. The part that the little Martha took in these painful
scenes she years afterwards described :

" The scene that followed I did not witness, but the vio-
lence of his emotion, when, almost by stealth, I entered his
room by night, to this day I dare not describe to myself. He
kept his room for three weeks, and I was never a moment
from his side. He walked incessantly almost night and day,
only lying down occasionally, when nature was completely ex-
hausted, on a pallet that had been brought in during his long
fainting-fit. My aunts remained constantly with him for some
weeks, I do not remember how many. When at last he left
his room, he rode out, and from that time he was incessantly
on horseback, rambling about the mountain in the least fre-
quented roads, and just as often through the woods. In those
melancholy rambles I was his constant companion; a solitary
witness to many a burst of grief, the remembrance of which
has consecrated particular scenes of that lost home beyond
the power of time to obliterate."

Not long after her mother's death, Martha was carried, with
her two little sisters, Mary and Lucy Elizabeth, to the resi-
dence of a friend of their father's, in Chesterfield County, there,
according to the custom of the country, to be inoculated for
the smallpox. Their father accompanied them, and nursed
them through the whole period of their inoculation, and while
engaged in this received notice of his appointment as Pleni-
potentiary to Europe. This appointment he did not now hesi-
tate to accept ; but, the time of his departure being uncertain,
he left his two younger children with their aunt, Mrs. Eppes,
and took Martha to Philadelphia with him. She was only ten
years old at the time of her mother's death, and was from
that time her father's constant companion. In after-life she
often spoke of the journeys she had made with him, and
of the difficulties and the tedium of traveling in those days,

12 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

particularly to a little girl, the sole companion of a gentle-
man and thrown often among entire strangers. But the first
wish of her heart was to be with him always and under all
circumstances, and there were few trials and privations which
she would not have borne rather than give up that pleasure
and happiness.

Before her mother's death, her father had paid very partic-
ular attention to her education, but whatever of discipline or
restraint she recollected as having been imposed on her at that
early age came from her mother. From her father she re-
membered to have received only words of love and encour-
agement, some of which had sunk deeply in her heart and
were cherished with gratitude long after they had been spoken.
In Philadelphia her father placed her under the care of Mrs.
Hopkinson, at whose house she remained until they sailed for
Europe. Mr. Jefferson, in the mean while, took his seat in
Congress, which was then in session in Annapolis ; and his
letters to his daughter, and the particular directions which
they contain as to her course of study and the manner in
which she should spend her time, prove how constantly she
was in his thoughts and with what care he watched over her
education.

They at last sailed for Europe early in the summer of the
year 1784, and reached their destination after a short voyage.
Mr. Jefferson at once took rooms in the Hotel d'Orleans until
he could find a suitable house. He kept his daughter with
him for some time, and then placed her at school in the con-
vent of the Abbaye Royale de Panthemont. The advantages
for intellectual, moral, and social training which this place
offered were very great. The nuns who watched with the
tenderest care over the girls placed under their charge be-
longed to the best families in Europe, and were born and bred
ladies. The pupils were from the higher classes of society,
being the daughters of the gentlemen and diplomatic men of
various countries, and of the nobility and gentry of France.
They had the best instruction, the best masters for accomplish-
ments ; and no pains, no expense were spared to make the

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. J3

system of education as complete as possible. Nor were the
recreations of the pupils neglected, and they were a bright,
joyous set.

No pupil was admitted at Panthemont without the recom-
mendation of a lady of rank; and, Mr. Jefferson being without
acquaintances on his first arrival in Paris, his devoted friend
the Marquis de La Fayette obtained from a lady friend of his
the necessary recommendation for the admission of the little
American. Naturally very diffident, the fiery ordeal which
her entrance into such an establishment was can be well appre-
ciated. A motherless little girl, transported from the primitive
simplicity of the retired life of the most retired part of Vir-
ginia, and placed at school in the gayest capital in the world,
among the daughters of the noblest houses in Europe, not un-
derstanding one word of the language spoken around her, how
she must have suffered, and how many times she must have
wished herself out of that strange throng and back at her
dear, beautiful Monticello, under the gentle instruction of her
father, who by precept and example instilled into her soul a
love of all that was good and noble ! Years afterwards she used
to describe to her children the depths of her despair at parting
with him. During the first week the kind Lady Superior
allowed him to see her a little while every evening ; during
those first few days she wept incessantly, the looking forward
to his coming being the one bright ray of light in her cheer-
less existence.

But, under the gentle influences by which she was sur-
rounded, such a state of things could not last long. She soon
learned to speak French. The pupils in the school were very
kind to the little Virginian, and, one or two of them taking
her under their wing and befriending her in her disconsolate
condition, she formed friendships with them which lasted
through life. After she had become accustomed to her new
life and grown happy in the convent, she was allowed to visit
her father in his own house once a month. Her school-mates
called her "Jeff" or " Jeffie," and from her correspondence
with them I find that " chere Jeff" was their general mode

14 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of address in letters written to her even after she had left
school.

In a quaint letter to Mrs. Trist, a lady in Philadelphia, who
was a friend of her father's and who had been very kind to her,
she gives some glimpses of her life in the convent. The letter
was written after she had been in Paris more than a year, though
she describes her first arrival with her father in France. The
naivete and artlessness betrayed in the following extracts from
this letter will amuse the reader :

" I am very happy in the convent, and with reason, for there
wants nothing but the presence of my friends of America to
render my situation worthy to be envied by the happiest; I do
not say kings, for, far from it, they are often more unfortunate
than the lowest of their subjects. I have seen the king and
the queen, but at too great a distance to judge if they are like
their pictures in Philadelphia. We had a lovely passage in a
beautiful new ship, that had made one passage before. There
were only six passengers, all of whom papa knew, and a fine
sunshine all the way, with a sea which was as calm as a river.
. . . We landed in England, where we made a very short
stay. The day we left it we got off at six o'clock in the even-
ing, and arrived in France at eleven the next morning. I
cannot say that this voyage was as agreeable as the first,
though it was much shorter. It rained violently, and the sea
was exceedingly rough all the time, and I was almost as sick
as the first time, when I was sick two days. The cabane was
not more than three feet wide and about four long. There
was no other furniture than an old bench, which was fast to
the wall. The door by which we came in at was so little that
one was obliged to enter on all-fours. There were two little
doors on the side of the cabane, the way to our beds, which
were composed of two boxes and a couple of blankets, without
either bed or mattress, so that I was obliged to sleep in my
clothes. There being no window in the cabane, we were
obliged to stay in the dark, for fear of the rain coming in if
we opened the door. I fear we should have fared as badly at
our arrival, for papa spoke very little French, and I not a word,

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 15

if an Irish gentleman, an entire stranger to us, who seeing our
embarrassment, had not been so good as to conduct us to a
house, and was of great service to us. It is amazing to see
how they cheat strangers ; it cost papa as much to have the
baggage brought from the shore to the house, which was about
half a square, as the bringing it from Philadelphia to Boston.
From there we should have had a very delightful voyage to
Paris, for Havre de Grace is built at the mouth of the Seine,
and we follow the river all the way through the most beau-
tiful country I ever saw in my life, — it is a perfect garden, —
if the singularity of our carriage (a phaeton) had not attracted
the attention of all we met; and whenever we stopped we
were surrounded by the beggars. One day I counted no less
than nine where we stopped to change horses. ... I wish
you could have been with us when we arrived, I am sure you
would have laughed, for we were obliged to send immediately
for the stay-maker, the mantuamaker, the milliner, and even
a shoemaker, before I could go out. I have never had the
friseur but once ; but I soon got rid of him, and turned down
my hair in spite of all they could say ; and I defer it now as
much as possible, for I think it always too soon to suffer. I
have seen two nuns take the veil. I'll tell you about that
when I come to see you. I was placed in a convent at my
arrival, and I leave you to judge of my situation. I did not
speak a word of French, and not one here knew English but
a little girl of two years old, that could hardly speak French.
There are about fifty or sixty pensioners in the house, so that
speaking as much as I could with them I learnt the language
very soon. At present I am charmed with my situation. . . .
There come in some new pensioners every day. The classe is
four rooms, exceedingly large, for the pensioners to sleep in ;
and there is a fifth and sixth, one for them to stay in the day, and
the other in which they take their lessons in. We wear the uni-
form, which is crimson, made like a frock, laced behind, with
the tail, like a robe de cour, hooked on, muslin cuffs and tuckers.
The masters are all very good, except that for the drawing."
The French words and idioms in this letter show that the

1 6 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

little lady had learned that language sufficiently well to be
in danger of forgetting how to express herself elegantly in
her own. We catch another glimpse of her at this period in
the following extract from the " Journal and Correspondence
of Miss Adams, Daughter of John Adams," who was at that
time in Paris :

" Thursday, October 14, 1784. — Mr. Jefferson sent us cards
yesterday to admit us to see the ceremony of taking the veil
in the convent where his daughter is to receive her educa-
tion. . . . The relations of the two victims appeared less
affected than any one present Thus these two girls are
destined to pass their lives within this convent. They are not
so strict as formerly. Miss Jefferson told me they were very
cheerful and agreeable. They seemed to take great pleasure
in contributing to the happiness of the pensioners. There
were three princesses, who are here for their education, and
were distinguished from the others by a blue ribbon over the
shoulder. This is considered the best and most genteel con-
vent in Paris. Most of the English who send their children
here for their education put them into this convent. There
are a number now here."

" January 27. — A small company to dine to-day. Miss
Jefferson we expected, but the news of the death of one of
Mr. J.'s children in America, brought by the Marquis de La
Fayette, prevented. Mr. J. is a man of great sensibility and
parental affection. His wife died when this child was born,
and he was almost in a confirmed state of melancholy, con-
fined himself from the world, and even from his friends, for a
long time ; and this news has greatly affected him and his
daughter. She is a sweet girl ; delicacy and sensibility are
read in every feature, and her manners are in unison with all
that is amiable and lovely. She is very young."

" February 7. — To-day we dined with Mr. Jefferson. He
invited us to come and see all Paris, which was to be seen in
the streets to-day, and many masks, it being the last day but
one of the Carnival. Miss Jefferson dined with us ; no other
company. . . ."

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. ij

"May 9. — When we had finished our business we went to
Mr. Jefferson's, where I saw Miss J., a most amiable girl."

The death of the child alluded to in this extract was indeed
an affliction keenly felt by Mr. Jefferson and his daughter.
Out of six children he now had only two left, and he deter-
mined to have his youngest, Mary, — or Polly, as she was some-
times called, — sent over to join him in Paris as soon as possible.
But it was nearly two years before an opportunity for doing
this occurred ; and when she did join her father and sister they
had become almost perfect strangers to her, and, a very beau-
tiful but very diffident child, she was at first, in the strange
land to which she had been brought, as timid as a frightened
hare in her intercourse with them. She was placed at school
in the convent with her sister, with whose school-mates and
friends she was a great pet and darling, her sweet and caress-
ing ways being as charming to them as they had been to
Mrs. Adams, who has left such a pretty picture of her in her
letters.

While at Panthemont, Martha Jefferson was very ill of a
fever, and the nuns, kind-hearted as they were, did not wish to
have their sacred retreat desecrated by the death of a heretic
within its walls. They therefore requested that she might be
taken away ; and it was only at the earnest entreaties of her
father, who begged that her chance of recovery might not be
lessened by moving her, that they at last consented she should
stay, at least until she was past all hope, if death should prove
to be inevitable. Since that day, one of her daughters who
visited Paris found the church of the Abbaye de Panthemont
open, and a Protestant clergyman preaching in it. Such had
been the changes since the school-days of her mother.

Though not handsome, Martha was at this time a tall and
aristocratic-looking girl. The lady at whose recommenda-
tion she had been admitted into the convent, being one day on
a visit to it, and watching the young girls playing in the gar-
den, pointed out one of them to the nun who was with her,
and asked who she was. The nun answered, with a little sur-
prise, " Comment, madame ! c'est votre protegee Mademoi-

1 8 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

selle Jefferson." " Ah ! mais vraiment elle a 1'air tres-dis-
tingue," replied the lady.

The English friends at the convent with whom she seems
to have been most intimate were Julia Annesley and Bettie
Hawkins. The first became, by some family inheritance, soon
after she left school, Lady Julia, — " to her great satisfaction,"
one of her school-mates writes of her to " dear Jeff." The
second, who seems to have been a girl full of life and intelli-
gence, with a very warm heart, married a gentleman who, as
she expresses it in one of her letters, " would be Lord J.
should the present heir kick the bucket." In another letter
to her friend Martha she suddenly breaks off from the subject
on which she is writing, and says, —

" My dear girl, I am to be married on Wednesday, the day
after to-morrow. I have not been myself for this week past,
and am now really tin pen. derangee dans la tete. The idea
that I quit all my friends, my dearest and nearest relations,
to follow a man who may soon forget the many promises
he has made me, and in the end prove totally different from
what we all imagine him to be, makes my feelings too acute
to bear description. If — but I will not anticipate imaginary
evils, or dwell on this subject, on which I can never converse
half an instant without showing myself (mamma says) an
idiot. Direct all your letters to Watersperry, where we go
immediately after the ceremony. Adieu ; pity your distressed
friend. Indeed I am very unhappy, though I have every
reason to be the contrary. A description of my journey, etc.,
you shall have soon ; and pray, Jeff, write to me."

The evils proved, indeed, to have been imaginary, for the
trembling and doubting bride became the happy wife, whose
letters, after years of married life, continue to breathe content-
ment and delight.

A charming French girl, Mademoiselle de Botidoux, and
Mademoiselle Brunette de Chateaubrun, were among Miss
Jefferson's other convent friends. The last left Paris before
her Virginia friend did, and returned to her home on her
father's plantation in Guadaloupe. She married, later, an officer

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 19

of the French navy, M. Salimbeni, and a change of fortune
bringing her to America with her husband in trouble when
Mr. Jefferson was President, he gave them some assistance,
and thus returned to his daughter's old school-mate some of
the kindness with which she had treated those first desolate
days of her school life. This lady's letters, when she first
began to write to her friend, are filled with descriptions of
balls and fetes, and of boxes of West India preserves which
had been prepared to be sent to her " chere Jeff;" and in her
last letter she speaks of the " circonstances malheureuses qui
m'ont toujours poursuivies avec une espece d'acharnement."
She died of consumption, fading away slowly, until one day
she was found sitting in her chair apparently asleep, but really
dead.

The last year that Miss Jefferson spent at the convent she
dined at the abbess's table, at her father's request, though at-
tending her classes as usual. She felt this to be a restraint,
but soon got accustomed to it, and formed some pleasant ac-
quaintances among the lady boarders who dined at the same
table. This, too, made her transition from the convent life to
the gay society into which she entered the next year more
easy and graceful. Among the new acquaintances formed at
the abbess's table was Lady Caroline Tufton, with whom she
became intimate, and with whom and her sister Lady Eliza-
beth she remained always on the most cordial and friendly
terms. After her return to Virginia and her marriage, these
ladies wrote her affectionate letters ; and one of her father's
farms lying at the foot of Monticello, which she called Tufton,
in honor of Lady Caroline, still bears that name. Lady
Caroline boarded for a short time only at Panthemont, when
she and her sister went to stay at the house of their uncle,
the Duke of Dorset, the English ambassador at the court of
Versailles.

It would have been strange for a young girl situated as
Martha Jefferson was, and subjected to the influences which
surrounded her, not to have been favorably impressed by the
religion of the good nuns to whom she was so sincerely at-

20 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

tached. They on their part seem to have made some efforts
to convert her to their faith. In this they were aided by the
amiable and excellent Abbe Edgeworth de Firmont. This
worthy man, who afterwards remained so faithful to Louis
XVI. in the last tragical days of his life and accompanied him
to the guillotine as his confessor, could not fail to make an
impression on the young Protestant. She became deeply at-
tached to him, and so much were her religious views influenced
by her intercourse with him that at last she found that her
desire was to join the Roman Catholic Church. She was too
conscientious not to communicate the state of her feelings on
the subject at once to her father. But she was not prepared
for the shock which her request to be allowed to join that
Church was to him. He listened to this with the utmost
emotion, and entreated her so earnestly not to take any such
decisive step until she had reflected more maturely on the
subject, that she abandoned the idea. She felt that she could
never be happy in taking a step which she saw would cause
him so much unhappiness.

Shortly after the interview with her father on this subject,
she left the convent and went to live with him ; but she spoke
of the Abbe always through life with esteem and affection.
The last year of her life in Paris was now spent in the gay
whirl of its fascinating society. Her most frequent com-
panions in going out were the Ladies Caroline and Elizabeth
Tufton, Mademoiselle de Botidoux, who seems to have been
very popular, and some of her other convent friends. The
most cordial and friendly relations existed between the Duke
of Dorset and Mr. Jefferson, and an English lady Mrs. Rob-
erts, a widow who was an inmate of the duke's house, acted
as chaperone for his nieces, and often performed the same kind
office for their friend Miss Jefferson. The young people seem
to have made the most of their opportunities, and to have
missed none of the enjoyments of the gay and brilliant world
in which they found themselves.

Mr. Jefferson limited his daughter to three balls a week,
and, it mattered not how tempting a fourth might be, the rule

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 2l

was adhered to. Whenever she went out she lost no chance
of dancing, of which she was passionately fond, that being
an accomplishment to which her father, had made her pay
great attention at an early age. On one occasion the Duke
de Fronsac, afterwards Duke de Richelieu, was standing near
her, and remarked, " Vous avez bien danse ce soir, mademoi-
selle." She replied, " Beaucoup !" " Et bien" he added. At
another ball, having danced eight times with one of the Po-
lignac family, it not being admissible to dance twice in suc-
cession with the same partner, she knew that she must have
danced sixteen times at least.

The beautiful and celebrated Georgiana, Duchess of Devon-
shire, was in Paris that winter. The freshness of youth was
gone, but the same ease, grace, and sweetness of manner
which, united to the most extraordinary beauty of form and
feature, had placed half the world at her feet, were still there.
With this distinguished peeress and the Ladies Tufton, Miss
Jefferson went to a dinner given to the duchess. The
young Virginian was the only lady present whose height
was equal to her own, and the duchess, observing it, said,
" It gives me pleasure, Miss Jefferson, to see any one as tall as
myself." But she was invited to meet another distinguished
woman, a more world-renowned but, alas, more sadly cele-
brated beauty, the ill-starred Marie Antoinette. She was to
appear, incognita of course, at an evening party at the Duke of
Dorset's, and Miss Jefferson was asked, but was prevented by
an untimely indisposition. It is needless to say how great
was the disappointment, and that it was one she regretted all
her life.

As a girl of sixteen, Martha Jefferson could, of course, only
look on at a respectful distance at Madame de Stael, whom she
constantly saw at balls, surrounded by a circle of gentlemen
under the spell of the wonderful charm of her conversation.
The Marquis de La Fayette was then in the zenith of his pop-
'ularity, gay, gallant, and agreeable, and he never passed the
daughter of his friend Jefferson without pausing to say a few
gay or kind words to her.

22 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

The first threatenings and murmurings of the approaching
storm which was to burst so soon and with such fury over
that devoted city were heard before Jefferson and his daugh-
ter left Paris. When the king was brought from Versailles
and the whole population of the city was in the streets and
in an uproar of excitement, Miss Jefferson and some young
ladies were placed at a window to see the procession pass by.
The king's coach appeared, and they received a bow from one
of his chamberlains, with whom they were acquainted. Then
there rose a noise which they could not account for ; it sounded
like the " bellowings of thousands of bulls." At last it reached
the ears of that part of the crowd nearest to them, and was
taken up by those who heard it : " La Fayette ! La Fayette !"
was the cry, and there came a young man in a frock-coat care-
lessly riding by; he looked up at the window, saw and recog-
nized Miss Jefferson, — the only lady in the party whom he
knew, — and bowed. Never before nor afterwards did she re-
ceive a bow of which she was so proud. Her young friends
declared they were filled with envy. On another occasion
she was at a party in the country near Paris, just after the
French officers had assumed the tri-colored cockade. There
were a number present, and they proposed to transfer their
cockades to the ladies, who accepted them at once and pinned
them on their dresses. Long years afterwards Mrs. Ran-
dolph's daughters found among a package of her mementos
a faded tri-colored cockade, and learned from her its history.
But the close of this brilliant and gay period of her life was
at hand, and she left Paris for America with her father and
young sister the 26th of September, 1789. They did not sail
from England until the 22d of October, and after a passage of
thirty days reached Norfolk in safety late in November.

From Paris to Norfolk, — from the metropolis of the world
to a little sea-port town, where it was difficult to find a hotel in
which decent lodgings could be had for the night. The change
was terrible, and could but affect the spirits of the travelers,
no matter with what delight they landed on their native shores
and felt they were within reach of the dear home for which

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 23

all three sighed. The lovely little Polly, who had shed so many
tears on leaving Virginia, seems to have shed quite as many
on her return. Rather a querulous little beauty, she stood
what was disagreeable in the situation with less equanimity
than either of her companions. But the depth of her misery
was sounded when a little boy in the hotel, after making
desperate love to her, gallantly kissed her hand. Her sister,
knowing how sensitive and diffident she was, said a few sooth-
ing words to her; but she was inconsolable, and sobbed forth,
" Mais c'est bien different de Paris."

There were no stage-coaches in those days, and the journey
from Norfolk to Monticello was performed with horses lent
by friends, and in easy stages from one friend's house to
another, visiting in turn on their way homeward those whom
they had not seen for years, and stopping at places with which,
after such a long absence, there were associations both pleas-
ant and sad. For an account of their final arrival at Monti-
cello, I must here ask the indulgence of the reader for the
repetition of words used in describing the same scene in
another work :

" A letter written by Mr. Jefferson to his overseer had been
the means of the negroes getting information of their master's
return home some days before he arrived. They were wild
with joy, and requested to have holiday on the day on which
he was expected to reach home. Their request was, of course,
granted, and they accordingly assembled at Monticello from
Mr. Jefferson's different farms. The old and the young came,
— women and children, — and, growing impatient, they saun-
tered down the mountain-side and down the road until they
met the carriage-and-four at Shadwell (four miles distant),
when the welkin rang with their shouts of welcome. Martha
Jefferson speaks of their 'almost' drawing the carriage by
hand up the mountain ; her memory in this instance may
have failed her, for I have it from the lips of old family serv-
ants who were present as children on the occasion, that the
horses were actually ' unhitched,' and the vehicle drawn by
the strong black arms up to the foot of the lawn in front of

24 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the door at Monticello. The appearance of the young ladies,
before whom they fell back and left the way clear to reach
the house, filled them with admiration. They had left them
when scarcely more than children in the arms, and now re-
turned— Martha a tall and stately-looking girl of seventeen,
and the little Maria, now in her eleventh year, more beautiful
and, if possible, more lovable than when, two years before, her
beauty and her loveliness had warmed into enthusiasm the
reserved but kind-hearted Mrs. Adams."

Mr. Jefferson and his daughters reached Monticello on the
23d of December, 1789, and on the 23d of February, 1790,
Martha was married to her distant relative, young Thomas
Mann Randolph, of Tuckahoe. The marriage was probably
hurried that her father might set out for New York, where he
was to take his place in General Washington's cabinet as
Secretary of State; for a few days after the wedding he left
home. Mr. Randolph was of good social position, of dis-
tinguished appearance, and a man of talent; he had been
educated at Edinburgh.

Young as she was, her accepted lover was not the only one
who had paid his addresses to Martha Jefferson, and, if we are
to believe some- of her Paris correspondents, there were more
than one on that side of the Atlantic who had made an effort
to keep her there. The charm of her manner and conversa-
tion, even at that early age, is represented as being very great,
and but for the contrast with her singularly beautiful little
sister she might have been thought handsome.

When she first returned from Europe she was not very
favorably impressed with Virginian society, but on visiting
the families of some of the owners of large landed estates she
found handsome, well-bred men and women, who in refine-
ment and dignity of manner did not differ from those she had
left abroad. There were still traces of the old colonial style
of living, and of its school of manners, which would have
compared favorably, in its day, with any in the world. But
the establishments where this style of life was kept up when
Martha, Jefferson returned home were rather the exception

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 2$

than the rule. It is difficult to realize what the change must
have been from the gayest and most brilliant society of
the world, with all its excitement, to the primitive country
life in Virginia, with no amusements whatever, and which,
contrasted with the scenes in which she had been living, must
have seemed almost barbarous in its extreme simplicity.

It was well therefore that a suitable husband appeared so
soon, and that in the novelty of married life the young bride
and wife lost all thought of a society and existence now far
beyond her reach. The first winter and summer of their
marriage were spent by the young couple at Monticello.
They then moved to Varina, an estate belonging to Mr. Ran-
dolph, below Richmond, where they seem to have been very
pleasantly situated and to have passed two very happy years.
The only glimpse I find of this period of Mrs. Randolph's
life is through the letters of her friends who had visited her ;
one of these being her old convent school-mate Brunette, who
found an asylum in the house and home of her " chere Jeff"
on her arrival with her husband and children in America,
refugees from Guadaloupe. She writes with enthusiasm of
her friend's happy situation and of " ce bon pays de la Vir-
ginie que j'aime a la folie."

Mrs. Randolph's sister, now no longer " Little Polly," as
her school-mates always called her, but a beautiful young lady
on the eve of marriage, writes to her father from Varina early
in the year 1796, and, after announcing her safe arrival, says, —

" I found my sister and her children in perfect health ; she
enjoying the satisfaction arising from the consciousness of
fulfilling her duty to the utmost extent. But it is one she has
always had. It would please you, I am sure, to see what an
economist, what a manager, she has become. The more I see
of her the more I am sensible how much more deserving she
is of you than I am ; but, my dear papa, suffer me to tell you
that the love, the gratitude she has for you could never sur-
pass mine : it would not be possible."

After her return to Virginia, Polly's name was changed to
Maria, that being the Virginia pronunciation of Marie, as she

26 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

was called in France. The self-distrust and self-depreciation
betrayed in the lines just quoted from her letter were promi-
nent traits in her character. She does not seem to have had
the bright, gay, and happy temper which her sister possessed.
To deserve and retain their father's unbounded love was the
highest aim in life for both the sisters, and the youngest was
always troubled with the fear that not having her sister's
talents she would not have an equal share in his affections.
When therefore her sister would exclaim, sportively, " Oh,
Maria ! if I only had your beauty," she did not receive it as a
compliment, but rather as an insinuation that she was praised
for her beauty because she could not be praised for talent : so
little did she value good looks. ^

Maria Jefferson was married in the autumn of 1797 to her
cousin John Wayles Eppes. Her winters were spent at the
house of her husband's father in Chesterfield County, and her
summers at Monticello.

About the time of this marriage Mr. and Mrs. Randolph
moved to Belmont, an estate in Albemarle, not more than
six miles from Monticello. Their family now consisted of
three children, Anne, Jefferson, and Ellen.

As giving the best picture of Mrs. Randolph's life at this
period, I give the following letters and extracts from letters
written to her father. The first contains a striking illustration
of the manner in which children were made hardy in the past
generation, — the little boy alluded to in this letter being not
quite six years old:

MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH TO THOMAS JEFFERSON.

"BELMONT, May 12, 1798.

" DEAREST FATHER, — Nothing makes me feel your absence
so sensibly as the beauty of the season; when every object in
nature invites one into the fields ; the close monotonous streets
of a city, which offers no charms of society within-doors to
compensate for the dreariness of the scene without, must be
absolutely intolerable, particularly to you who have such in-
teresting employment at home. Monticello shines with a

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 2/

transcendent luxury of vegetation above the rest of the neigh-
borhood as yet. . . . We have been all well but Jefferson,
who had declined rapidly for some time from a disorder which
had baffled every attention and change of diet. But Mr. Sneed
opening school and Jeffy being hurried out of bed every morn-
ing at sunrise and obliged, after a breakfast of bread and milk,
to walk two miles to school, his spirits returned, his com-
plexion cleared up, and I am in hopes that his disorder has
left him entirely. He is much mended in appearance, strength,
and spirits, which had been low to an alarming degree. Anne
just begins to read, and Ellen points at grandpapa's picture 6n
the chimney when asked where he is. Adieu, my dearest
father. Blest as I am in my family, you are still wanting to
complete my happiness. Monticello will be interesting indeed
when with the prospect of it the loved idea of yourself and
dear Maria will be so intimately blended as they will in a few
weeks, I hope. Once more adieu, and believe me, with every
sentiment of affection, yours."

" BELMONT, June — , 1798.

" It is easier to conceive than to express the sensations with
which the sight of the preparations for your return inspires
us. I look forward to Thursday with raptures and palpita-
tions not to be described ; that day which will once more
unite me to those most dear to me in the world. Adieu,
dearest and adored father. The heart-swellings with which I ad-
dress you when absent, and look forward to your return, con-
vince me of the folly or want of feeling of those who dare to
think that any new ties can ever weaken the first and best of
nature. The first sensations of my life were affection and re-
spect for you, and none others in it have weakened or sur-
passed these. The children all send love to grandpapa, and
count the days with infinite anxiety. Yours with tenderest
love and reverence."

In the beginning of the year 1800 Mr. Randolph moved
with his family to his own estate, Edgehill, a mile from Bel-
mont, and nearer Monticello than that place. The house at

28 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Edgehill was small, but there seems to have been always a
spare room for company.

Mrs. Randolph was now the mother of four children, another
little girl, Cornelia, having been added to the number. She
also had the care of her husband's sister, Virginia, whose
mother dying when she was very young, her brother's house
became her home. Mrs. Randolph bestowed on her the same
affectionate attention which she would have shown her own
sister, and added to her other kindnesses that of educating
her. Mrs. Randolph's intercourse with her husband's family
was marked by the most perfect self-abnegation, and there
was not a member of it whose affection and boundless esteem
she did not command. A proof of this was the fact that if
the brother was ever the object of any ill will it was never
extended to his wife.

Her husband's family not only visited Mrs. Randolph in
her own house, but in her father's. She was always a com-
forter to them in distress, and not rarely a nurse for themselves
and their children in sickness. One of her sisters-in-law being
with her on one occasion in delicate health, she took the
trouble to attach the invalid's little boy to her, though she
had her own young children around her, that his suffering
mother might be relieved of the care of her son, who soon
became devoted to " auntie." The following letter was written
soon after the move to Edgehill :

MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH TO THOMAS JEFFERSON.

" EDGEHILL, January 30, 1800.

" I have this moment received your two letters to Mr. Ran-
dolph and myself (together), and by the same post one from
Mr. Eppes, informing me of the loss of his child. My heart
is torn by an event which carries death to hopes so long and
fondly cherished by my poor sister. I would give the world
to fly to her comfort at this moment ; but having been disap-
pointed before in doing what perhaps my anxiety only termed
a moral duty (visiting her during her confinement), I am afraid
to indulge any more hopes upon that subject. To your in-

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 29

quiries respecting poor Jupiter,* he too has paid the debt to
nature. Finding himself no better on his return home, he
unfortunately considered himself poisoned, and went to con-
sult the negro doctor who attended the Georges. He went
into the house to see Uncle Randolph, who gave him some
brandy, which he drank, and seemed to be as well as he had
been for some time past, after which he had a dose from .his
black doctor, who pronounced that it would kill or cure. Two
hours and a half after taking the medicine he fell down in a
strong convulsion fit, which lasted from ten to eleven hours,
during which time it took three stout men to hold him. He
languished nine days, but was never heard to speak from the
first of his being seized to the moment of his death. Ursula, f
I fear, is going in the same manner with her husband and son.
. . . The doctor, I understand, had also given her ' means,'
as they term it, and upon Jupiter's death has absconded. I
should think his murder sufficiently manifest to come under
the cognizance of the law. . . . Adieu, my dearest father. I
have written this with the messenger who is to carry it, at my
elbow, patiently waiting."

The picture of the negro doctor and his method of practice
given in this letter is a perfect illustration of the strange ideas
of the science of medicine entertained by his race. To them
it is half science, half witchcraft. In by-gone days in Vir-
ginia, on almost every plantation there was some favored in-
dividual, either male or female, among the slaves who was
thought to be endowed with the power of effecting wonderful
cures by means of curious signs and mysteriously compounded
drugs. Their ideas of physiology were particularly striking;
the palate, for instance, being supposed to be held in place by
a particular lock of hair on the crown of the head. If in an
attack of sore throat the palate " was down," the inspired phy-
sician was called in to raise it by tying up the "palate-lock."

Hospitable as Jefferson and his daughter both were, the

* Mr. Jefferson's coachman and favorite servant.
Another servant.

30 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

crowds of visitors who thronged the open doors at Monticello
were naturally at times a great annoyance and burden. The
two interesting letters which follow show how much this was
the case in the summer visits which Jefferson paid to Monti-
cello during his terms of office.

MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH TO THOMAS JEFFERSON.

" EUGEHILL, January 31, 1801.

"... I am delighted that your return will be at a season
when we shall be able to enjoy your company without inter-
ruption. I was at Monticello last spring one day before the
arrival of any one, and one day more of interval between the
departure of one family and the arrival of another ; after which
time I never had the pleasure of passing one sociable moment
with you. Always in a crowd, taken from every useful and
pleasing duty to be worried with a multiplicity of disagree-
able ones, which the entertaining of such crowds of company
subjects one to in the country, I suffered more in seeing
you always at a distance than if you had still been in Phila-
delphia ; for then at least I should have enjoyed in anticipation
those pleasures which we were deprived of by the concourse
of strangers which continually crowded the house when you
were with us. I find myself every day becoming more averse
to company. I have lost my relish for what is usually deemed
pleasure, and duties incompatible with it have supplanted all
other enjoyments in my breast, — the education of my chil-
dren, to which I have long devoted every moment that I could
command, but which is attended with more anxiety now as
they increase in age without making the acquirements which
other children do. My two eldest are uncommonly back-
ward in everything ; much more so than many others who
have not had half the pains taken with them. Ellen is won-
derfully apt; I shall have no trouble with her; but the two
others excite serious anxiety with regard to their intellect.
Of Jefferson my hopes were so little sanguine that I discov-
ered with some surprise and pleasure that he was quicker
than I had ever thought it possible for him to be. But he

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 31

has lost so much time, and will necessarily lose so much more
before he can be placed at a good school, that I am very
unhappy about him. Anne does not want memory, but she
does not improve. She appears to me to learn absolutely
without profit. Adieu, my dear father ; we are all fearfully
anxious to see you. Ellen counts the weeks and continues
scoring up complaints against Cornelia, whom she is perpet-
ually threatening with your displeasure. Long is the list of
misdemeanors which is to be communicated to you, amongst
which the stealing of two potatoes, carefully preserved two
whole days for you, but at last stolen by Cornelia, forms a
weighty article. Adieu again, dearest, best-beloved father.
Two long months before we shall see you. In the mean
time rest assured of the first place in the heart of your affec-
tionate child."

To this letter the following beautiful and touching answer
was written, — beautiful in its efforts to quiet the anxieties
about her children of an inexperienced and ambitious young
mother ; touching in the cry with which it closes for that rest
in the bosom of his family which this devoted father was never
to enjoy :

THOMAS JEFFERSON TO MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH.

"WASHINGTON, February 5, 1801.

"Mv DEAR MARTHA, — Yours of January 3ist is this mo-
ment put into my hands, and the departure of the post obliges
me to answer on the same day. I am much afflicted to learn
that your health is not good. ... I have formed a different
judgment of both Ann and Jefferson from what you do; of
Ann positively, of Jefferson possibly. I think her apt, intelli-
gent, good-humored, and of a soft and affectionate disposition,
and that she will make a pleasant, amiable, and respectable
woman. Of Jefferson's disposition I have formed a good
opinion, and have not suffered myself to form any opinion,
either good or bad, of his genius. It is not every heavy-
seeming boy which makes a man of judgment, but I never

32 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

yet saw a man of judgment who had not been a heavy-seem-
ing boy, nor knew a boy of what is called sprightly parts be-
come a man of judgment. But I set much less store by talents
than good dispositions, and shall be perfectly happy to see
Jefferson a good man, an industrious farmer, and beloved
among all his neighbors. By cultivating these dispositions in
him, — and they may be immensely strengthened by culture, —
we may insure his and our happiness ; and genius itself can
propose no other object. Nobody can ever have felt so severely
as myself the prostration of family society from the circum-
stance you mention. Worn down here with pursuits in which
I take no delight, surrounded by enemies and spies, catching
and perverting every word which falls from my lips or flows
from my pen, and inventing where facts fail them, I pant for
that society where all is peace and harmony, where we love
and are beloved by every object we see ; and to have that
intercourse of soft affections crushed and suppressed by the
eternal presence of strangers goes very hard indeed, and the
harder as we see that the candle of life is burning out, so that
the pleasures we lose are lost forever. But there is no remedy.
The present manners and usages of our country are laws we
cannot repeal. They are altering by degrees, and you will
live to see the hospitality of the country reduced to the visiting
hours of the day, and the family left to tranquillity in the even-
ing. It is wise, therefore, under the necessity of our present
situation, to view the pleasing side of the medal, and to con-
sider that these visits are evidences of the general esteem
which we have all our lives been trying to merit. The char-
acter of those we receive is very different from the loungers
who infest the houses of the wealthy in general, nor can it be
relieved in our case but by a revolting conduct which would
undo the whole labor of our lives. It is a valuable circum-
stance that it is only through a particular portion of the year
that these inconveniences arise. The election by the House
of Representatives being on Wednesday next, and the next
our post-day, I shall be able to tell you something certain
about it by my next letter. I believe it will be as the people

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

33

have wished ; but this depends on the will of a few moderate
men, and they may be controlled by their party. I long to
see the time approach when I can be returning to you, though
it may be for a short time only. These are the only times
that existence is of any value to me. Continue, then, to love
me, my ever-dear Martha, and be assured that to yourself, your
sister, and those dear to you, everything in my life is devoted.
Ambition has no hold on me but through you. My personal
affections would fix me forever with you. Present me affec-
tionately to Mr. Randolph. Kiss the dear little objects of our
mutual love, and be assured of the constancy and tenderness
of mine to you. Adieu."

Read in the light of subsequent events, the interest in these
letters increases ; for the " heavy-seeming" boy, the object of
such tender solicitude, grew up indeed to be the " man of
judgment," whose loving arms in the hour of adversity were
the stay and support of this anxious mother and fond grand-
father, as the warmth of his affections was their joy. After
a long life of usefulness and self-sacrifice, sinking to rest with
the declaration on his lips that it had been his rule through
life to repress all feelings of resentment for any wrong done
him, he was borne to his grave amid the most touching
expressions and evidences of the love which his friends and
neighbors bore him, while with hirn was buried a fund of
varied information, knowledge, and wisdom which there are
few who might not envy.

As usual, Mr. Jefferson spent the summer this year (1801)
at Monticello, his two daughters and the little grandchildren
being with him. In a letter written in the spring of 1802, Mrs.
Randolph alludes to her father's return home in the summer,
and to the pleasure of their meeting at Monticello, — " though
not, on my side," she adds, " unmixed with pain when I think
it will be a precursor of a return to the world from which I
have been so long secluded and for which my habits render
me every way unfit." This dreaded " return to the world"
was an anticipated visit to Washington, which did not take

3

34

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

place, owing to the illness of Mrs. Randolph's children. • In
the same letter written to announce this disappointment to
her father, she tells him of the illness of one of his servants,
and speaks of having sat up with him, together with a lady
friend, " all night, until the doctor could arrive, which was not
until after daylight." She expresses great sympathy with the
sufferings of her "fellow-creature," and speaks of " the fortu-
nate circumstance of his being with us rather than at home,
for if nursing and the most unwearied attention can save him,
he shall not want ; for Mr. Randolph, the doctor, and myself
have been hourly with him." What could be more pleasing
than this picture of the high-bred lady watching beside the
bed of her father's faithful slave during the long hours of the
night, and not being willing during the day to intrust the care
of him entirely to others ?

The two sisters, with their families, again passed the summer
with their father at Monticello in 1802, and in October, after
his return to Washington, he wrote to insist on their coming
to pay him the long-promised visit there. In reply to this
summons the following letter was written :

MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH TO THOMAS JEFFERSON.

" October 29.

" DEAR PAPA, — We received your letter, and are prepared
with all speed to obey its summons. By next Friday I hope
we shall be able to fix a day ; and probably the shortest time
in which the horses can be sent after receiving our letter will
determine it, though as yet it is not certain that we can
get off so soon. Will you be so good as to send orders to
the milliner, — Madame Peck, I believe her name is, — through
Mrs. Madison, who very obligingly offered to execute any
little commission for us to Philadelphia, for two wigs of the
color of the hair inclosed, and of the most fashionable shapes,
that they may be in Washington when we arrive ? They are
universally worn, and will relieve us as to the necessity of
dressing our own hair, a business in which neither of us are
adepts. I believe Madame Peck is in the habit of doing these

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

35

things when desired, and they can be procured in a short time
from Philadelphia, where she corresponds, much handsomer
than elsewhere. Adieu, dearest father."

The long-delayed visit to Washington was made this fall,
and the two sisters gladdened their father's heart by spending
a portion of the winter with him. Mrs. Randolph was in very
bad health, having an abscess on her lungs, and her physician,
fearing she might have consumption, advised her to spend the
winter in Bermuda. She left home, therefore, with the inten-
tion of staying a short time only in Washington, and then
going on to Bermuda.

The journey from Edgehill to Washington was generally
accomplished in four days. The roads were execrable, and
the only mode of conveyance was a private carriage. For Mrs.
Randolph the journey itself, so much dreaded, proved to be
most beneficial, as at the end of the first day the abscess on
her lungs broke, and the improved condition of her health
which followed was such that the intended trip to Bermuda
was abandoned.

The pleasure of this trip to Washington seems to have been
unalloyed, and the two sisters, who thus emerged from the
seclusion in which they had been living in their quiet country
homes in Virginia, to plunge into the gayeties of the capital
of the nation, showed no want of zest in the enjoyment of
them. To Mrs. Randolph it was the first glimpse of the world
which she had seen since she had enjoyed the delights of the
brilliant society at the court of Louis XVI. As the daughters
of the President they would, under all circumstances, have
received attention and admiration ; but there were graces of
mind and person in the two sisters which would have secured
these for them had they been no other than what they assumed
to be, Virginia ladies. Years afterwards Mrs. Madison would
describe with great delight the impression which they made
when going into society together that winter. The singular
beauty of Mrs. Eppes caused all eyes to be riveted on her
when her lovely face and graceful form appeared in the door-

36 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

way, while the charm of Mrs. Randolph's manner, her vivacity
and her powers of conversation made her the centre of a group
not less enthusiastic in their admiration of her than of her
beautiful sister.

There was the usual round of balls, parties, and dinners, in
all of which Mrs. Randolph participated. To Mr. Jefferson
the burdens and cares of public life were lightened by the
presence of the two beings who were dearer to him than life
itself, and it was one of the very few occasions in his public
career when he enjoyed, while at his post, the sweets of daily
family intercourse.

The two sisters left Washington in January and returned to
the quiet of their country homes in Virginia. The family was
arain reunited at Monticello in the summer, when the con-

O '

dition of Mrs. Eppes's health was such as to excite grave ap-
prehensions about her, which were too sadly realized in the
course of the twelvemonth. Mr. Jefferson's two sons-in-law
following him to Washington in the fall to take their places
in Congress, Mrs. Eppes was easily persuaded to spend the
winter with her sister at Edgehill. She needed indeed the
tender care and attention which her sister alone could give,
and these last months that they were destined to be together
on earth were thus passed in the closest and most intimate in-
tercourse. It was a period of great physical suffering to one
and of the keenest mental anguish to the other.

Every attention that love and tenderness could suggest
Mrs. Eppes received from her sister, who left her chamber
and her own infant that she might assist in taking care of the
invalid and her child at night. That there was no improve-
ment in her condition during the fall and winter we learn from
the anxious tone of her father's letters, in one of which he ex-
presses the hope that the evening post would bring news of her.

But the good news of the invalid never came. Her child
was born in February, and there was a flare-up of her strength
which revived hopes of her ultimate recovery, and, in an out-
burst of joy betokening the relief of long-restrained anxiety,
her father writes to congratulate her on hearing of her well-

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

37

doing. " A thousand joys to you, my dear Maria," he writes,
adding, "I rejoice indeed that all is so well." Alas for hopes
destined so soon to be blighted ! for Mrs. Eppes soon grew
worse, and sank steadily until, about the middle of April, sur-
rounded by those she had loved first and last, this beautiful
young woman passed away from earth.

For the first few hours after her sister's death Mrs. Ran-
dolph's grief was so violent that one attack of hysterics suc-
ceeded another. At last she received a message from her
father begging her to come to him. She made a desperate
effort to control her feelings, and went to his room. She
found him with the Bible in his hands and composed, but on
seeing her enter the room he gave way to his feelings, and a
violent outburst of grief ensued from both. As soon as he
recovered himself sufficiently to speak, he exclaimed, " Oh,
my daughter, I did not send for you to witness my weakness,
for I thought I could control myself, but to comfort me with
your presence." Those words, and the thought they sug-
gested, that she alone could be his comforter, instantly gave
her strength to master her grief for his sake. " I felt at once
strong," she said in after-years to one of her children, in de-
scribing this painful scene. It was, perhaps, the greatest
proof she could have given of her filial devotion, that even in
the first wild moments of her agonizing grief for the beautiful
young sister to whom she had been half mother, her father's
first cry of distress should have centred her thoughts on him
and made her control her own feelings in her desire to soothe
his.

The loss of this loved daughter made Mr. Jefferson cling
with increased tenderness to the one still spared him. The
winter after her sister's death Mrs. Randolph had a severe
illness, of which her father was not informed until she had
recovered from its effects. As soon as he heard of her having
been ill, however, he wrote to reproach her for not having
told him sooner of the danger she had been in, and assured
her that but for business he should have gone to her even
then as " fast as my horses could carry me." The anxiety he

3 8 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

expresses about her health, and his entreaties to her to take
care of herself, are touching. In reply she writes, —

"Nothing could have been farther from my mind, dearest
father, than the idea of exciting alarm in that bosom which it
has been the study of my life to soothe and comfort. . . .
I feel my importance with regard to yourself, my helpless
little girls and their father, whose joint affection gives to life
a value which cannot fail to render me sedulously attentive to
the preservation of it. For your sake, my dear father, par-
ticularly will I be careful of myself, that your declining years
may not be embittered by the loss of their last prop. Adieu,
with every sentiment of affection."

Mrs. Randolph only visited Washington twice while her
father was President. The first visit was made, as we have
seen, with her sister; the second in the winter of 1805-6,
when she took with her her whole family, now consisting of
six daughters and one son. On the occasion of this visit the
wife of the British Minister sent to ask if Mrs. Randolph had
come to Washington as the President's daughter, or as the
wife of a Virginia gentleman. If as the first, she would make
the first call ; if as the second, she would expect it. It not
being the etiquette for natives, whether residents of the city or
not, to call first on foreign ministers, Mrs. Randolph, under her
father's instructions, replied that she was in Washington as
the wife of a Virginia gentleman, and as such expected the
first call from the wife of the British Minister. It is almost
needless to add that the ladies did not exchange visits.

Mrs. Randolph had ample opportunities for indulging her
taste for society during this winter spent in the President's
house. He entertained a great deal, and in a style becoming
the station which he held. This he did more from a sense of
duty than a taste for company, which was often a serious
burden to him and added greatly to the fatigues of his official
duties. Three times a week he had dinner-parties, the company
invited being members of Congress, or the citizens, and any
distinguished foreigners who might be in town. Among the
distinguished guests entertained by the President this winter

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 39

was the ambassador from Tunis, who, being the latest arrival,
was the lion of the day.

True to their Oriental ideas, this embassy came loaded with
superb presents for the President and his daughters, and,
equally true to his ideas of propriety, Mr. Jefferson did not
allow these to enter his house. They were accepted with due
form and courtesy at the State Department, then sold, and the
money from the sale placed in the Treasury as belonging to
the government.

In a society composed of such varied elements as that
which was entertained at her father's hospitable board, natu-
rally many incidents occurred which afforded amusement to
one with such a keen sense for the ridiculous as Mrs. Ran-
dolph. Those who knew her well can remember still with
what zest she related even late in life many a good story with
which that winter furnished her. A close observer of every-
thing going on around her, and a good judge of character,
she had a fund of anecdotes which added not a little to the
interest of her conversation, always gay and sprightly.

But there were incidents, partaking in no way of the ridicu-
lous, which revealed to this high-toned lady party hate and
malignity such as she had never dreamt of in the simple and
pure life of her quiet Virginia home. In the early part of Mr.
Jefferson's administration gambling was indulged in to a great
extent in Washington, the vice extending to women of high
position. On the occasion of some evening entertainment,
when perhaps cards formed one of the amusements, a North-
ern member of Congress asked Mrs. Randolph to join him in
a game. She declined, but in a short time he renewed his
invitation. She again declined ; but on his repeating the
request the third time she assured him, in a manner which
could but carry conviction, that there was not a game of cards
that she could play. " Is it possible, madam!" the gentleman
exclaimed. " Why, with us the universal impression is that
you are the greatest gambler in the country, and that if a per-
son wants office nothing would favor him so much as having
lost money with the President's daughter."

40 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

John Randolph of Roanoke was at this time in Congress.
It must have been in his intercourse with Mrs. Randolph
during this winter that he learned to know her so well and so
to appreciate her worth and talents that later, when her health
was proposed at a gentleman's dinner in Virginia, at a time
too when he was one of her father's bitterest political foes, he
seconded the toast with the exclamation, " Yes, gentlemen,
let us drink to the noblest woman in Virginia." The impres-
sion she made on foreigners was not less favorable. The
polished Marquis de Yrujo, who was then Spanish Ambassa-
dor in Washington, said she was fitted to grace any court in
Europe.

But not in the delights of society, not in the charms of
conversation with men of talents and polish, — charms so fas-
cinating to a woman of culture, — did she find her greatest
happiness in this visit to Washington. That was in being so
constantly in her father's society, and in the intimate and unre-
served intercourse which existed between them. Her rever-
ence for him, which amounted almost to adoration, did not
prevent her sharing every thought with him and finding in
him the tenderest sympathizer with her every joy and sorrow,
whether trivial or great. The death of the beautiful and ten-
derly-loved member of this devoted trio seemed to have drawn
the two remaining more closely together than ever. Mrs.
Randolph had access to her father's apartment at all hours ;
and when an unusual press of business left him no spare
moment to give even to her, the key of his room was put in
the lock on the outside of the door; as a sign that if possible
he must not be disturbed, but that if she chose she could
enter.

From an interesting account of Mrs. Randolph's life at this
period, written by her daughter Mrs. Trist, I make the fol-
lowing extract :

" My mother's second visit to her father was in the winter
of 1805-6. She had then lost her sister. My aunt left two
children, Francis and Maria Jefferson. The little girl was
only a few months old, and did not long survive her mother.

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 41

Francis passed that winter under my mother's care, his father
being still in Congress. One of my brothers was born that same
winter, — the first birth which took place in the White House.
He was called James Madison. Mrs. Madison was an inti-
mate and much-valued friend of my mother's, and her amiable
playful manners with children attracted my sisters and my-
self and made her a great favorite with us. ... My oldest
sister, Anne, completed her fifteenth year that winter, and
was not yet going into society ; but my mother permitted her
to go to a ball under the care of a lady friend, who requested
that my sister might go to her house to dress and accompany
her own daughter, near her age, to the ball. My sister ex-
cited great admiration on that occasion. She had a ' remark-
ably classic head/ as I remember hearing an Italian artist re-
mark at Monticello upon seeing her there after she was the
mother of several children. Her hair was a beautiful auburn,
and her complexion had a delicate bloom very becoming to
her ; and with the freshness of fifteen I can readily imagine
how strikingly handsome she was. My mother, accompanied
by Mrs. Cutts, went to the ball at a late hour. She was very
short-sighted; and, seeing my sister entering the ball-room, she
asked Mrs. Cutts, ' Who is that beautiful girl ?' Mrs. Cutts,
much amused, answered, ' Why, woman, are you so unnatural
a mother as not to recognize your own daughter ?'

"... A lasting impression was made on my memory
by the reception in one of the drawing-rooms of the Tu-
nisian Ambassador and suite, — the brilliantly-lighted room,
the odd appearance to my puzzled senses of the rich Turkish
dresses, and my alarm at receiving a kiss from the secretary
of the ambassador, whilst one of my sisters, just two years
old, whose Saxon complexion and golden hair made her a
beautiful picture, was honored by a kiss from the ambas-
sador. I heard of the elegant presents brought by them for
my mother and aunt, which were publicly exhibited and sold.
My mother wished to purchase one of the shawls intended
for her; but when Mrs. Madison went to make the purchase
she found that she had been anticipated by another person.

42 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

The talk about these presents could not, of course, fail to
greatly excite my curiosity ; but my desire to see them was not
gratified. My grandfather did not allow them to be brought
to the President's house."

The following letter, written after Mrs. Randolph's return
home, is a vivid picture of the anxious mother at the bedside
of an ill child :

MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH TO THOMAS JEFFERSON.

" EDGEHILL, July 12, 1806.

" I have suffered so much from fatigue and anxiety since
my return home that I have not had spirit to write to my
dearest father. The day Mr. Randolph left me I discovered
my dear Ellen to be very ill. . . . The speed with which
Mr. R. moves and accomplishes his business prevented my
sending for him, as he could only have been brought back
two days sooner than he intended to return. His business
was very urgent; and the heat of the weather, his anxiety and
fatigue would have endangered his health so much that I
determined to depend on my own strength and the advice of
the physician. The complaint from the beginning seemed to
be of the most inveterate kind, with so much fever that she
became through the day delirious, but employing every lucid
interval in reading. Judge of my feelings, my dearest father, at
seeing her escaping from me so rapidly, and often, when hang-
ing over her in agonies indescribable, to have some question of
natural history, which she was reading at the time, addressed
to me by the little sufferer, the activity of whose mind even
the most acute bodily pain was never capable of subduing ! She
sank at last in a state of stupor, which, however, seldom left her.
She was as certainly saved by bleeding, my dear father, as
others have been killed by it. Thank God, the fever has inter-
mitted. Ann wrote to you when the crisis had taken place
in consequence of the bleeding, and myself, exhausted with
watching, want of food, and anxiety, had taken to my bed under
asevere illness. But, thanks to the very judicious and friendly
attention and management of my case by Doctors Everett and

AfRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

43

Gilmer, who by sitting up with Ellen relieved me from care and
anxiety, I was not confined more than five days. The fever-
ish derangement lasted ten days ; and to the false strength
which that gave me I was indebted for the incessant attention
night and day which it enabled me to give my darling, and
by which perhaps she was saved. The others were all of them
sick at the same time, and required also unwearied attention to
their diet, that they might not be suffered to get too low. Jane
from home, and not a female friend to assist me, — I reflect,
with horror that no language can depict, upon that week."

The two years which elapsed between Mrs. Randolph's
visit to Washington and her father's final return to Monticello,
freed at last from the splendid torments of public life, were
spent by her in her quiet home at Edgehill. Though her life
there was so hidden from the world, its duties and its cares were
very great. The mother of seven children, the mistress of a
Virginia plantation, and with her husband's finances always
in an embarrassed condition, she had her full measure of
troubles and care. Yet her good sense, her spirit of self-
sacrifice, and her bright, happy temper bore her in triumph
through every trial. The " little girls," for whose sakes we
have seen her expressing such anxiety to live, never had any
other instructor than their mother; and few women could
boast a better education than they received. So admirable
was her system of instruction, and so great her power of
inspiring her young scholars with a desire to learn, that she
found it oftener necessary to use the curb than the spur with
them.

Excellent as she was both as the loyal wife and devoted
attentive mother, yet it was perhaps as the kind and thoughtful
mistress that Mrs. Randolph's superior traits of character
shone forth. Only those thoroughly familiar with plantation-
life as it was in Virginia can appreciate the fact that the mis-
tress of a large landed estate was the greatest slave on it. On
her devolved the duty of seeing that the slaves were properly
provided with clothes and abundance of wholesome food, and

44

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

that when sick they received every attention. She, too, was
their friend in every trouble, in sickness or in health, and into
her sympathizing ear were poured their idle or just complaints
of wrongs, fancied or real. With what patience, with what
fidelity, and with what kindness of heart Mrs. Randolph
discharged these various duties, the devotion of her slaves
sufficiently testified. Sunday, she often said, was no day of
rest to her, for that was the chosen day on which the old
negro women asked an audience of their mistress and made
their wants known to her.

On every well-regulated Virginia plantation the wool from
the flocks upon it was spun into yarn and manufactured by
the women into very excellent cloth. To have an eye to
all the details of this operation was no easy task, and required
no little executive talent; but Mrs. Randolph proved herself
equal to it. No greater proof, perhaps, of the almost Homeric
simplicity of life in Virginia at that day could be given than
the picture of this lady, with the tastes and accomplishments
which might have adorned a princess, giving out to her maid-
servants wool which they were in due time to return to her
manufactured into a given amount of properly-woven cloth.
One is reminded of the Greek matrons presiding over the
work of their handmaidens.

Occasional visits from a friend or neighbor, new books
sent by her father, her harpsichord, and the constant com-
panionship of her children, were the relaxations Mrs. Randolph
had in her busy but, as far as variety and amusement went,
dull and monotonous life at Edgehill. All visits from neigh-
bors were generally to spend the day, — taken in its literal
sense, — and not to make morning calls. Nor was it a mark
of intimacy to make such a visit without special invitation :
a carriage driving to the door was often the first intimation
the hostess had that she was to have company to dinner.
Such being the custom, it was the necessary fashion to come
early, as early even as eleven or twelve o'clock, that the lady
of the house might have time to make suitable additions to
her dinner. The visitors generally came with their knitting

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

45

or embroidery, sustained an animated conversation with the
ladies of the house for an hour or two, which was followed
by a mutually agonizing period of suppressed yawns, until
dinner — always an excellent one — was announced. The meal
being over, the company set out almost immediately for home,
which was generally reached after dark and after a drive of
seven or even twelve miles over execrable roads.

The happiest days in all the year for the mother and chil-
dren at Edgehill were those on which the dear grandfather
came from Washington to spend a few weeks at Monticello.
His journey was generally so timed that he arrived at Edge-
hill to breakfast, and when he started for Monticello, a few
hours later, he was accompanied by his daughter and the
little grandchildren, whose bright, happy faces were radiant
with delight as they turned towards the beautiful spot which
they already knew and loved as their home. At last the
days of separation were ended ; and great was the joy which
filled the hearts of this father and daughter the morning he
arrived, not as the President of the United States on a hur-
ried visit to his country home, but as the private citizen, who
was never again to be deprived by the discharge of official
duties of the sweet pleasures of domestic life for which he
had so long sighed. The move to Monticello this time was
permanent, and during her father's life it never ceased to be
the home of Mrs. Randolph and her children.

The early days of this return home, before he began to
realize the extent of his financial embarrassments, was, per-
haps, both to Jefferson and his daughter the happiest period
of their lives. It must have been with infinite satisfaction that
she saw herself established with her family in the home of
her childhood, and her children growing up around her father
with a love and veneration inferior only to her own. His in-
tercourse with them was very charming, and many a spring
day they were seen trooping after him as he went from flower-
bed to flower-bed, planting seed that were soon to present to
their longing and impatient gaze flowers which they thought
wonders of beauty.

46 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Mrs. Randolph presided over her father's establishment, and,
in addition to the trouble which the entertainment of crowds of
visitors involved, the " spinning-room" fell under her province
here, as at Edgehill. Years afterwards, an old negro woman,
while speaking with some pride of having been one of the
"spinners" at Monticello, added, "Oh, we were so bad and
troublesome, I wonder how mistress had the patience to bear
with us as she did !" Her favorite recreations were reading
and the cultivation of flowers. Music, too, remained a great
resource to her, and it was her habit to play after tea every
evening for her father, whose passion for music is well known.
After his death she did not play as much as she had formerly
done, but it was noticed that she was careful not to forget his
favorite pieces, which she continued to play to the day of her
death.

Now and then the arrival of a distinguished foreigner at
Monticello afforded Mrs. Randolph an opportunity of listen-
ing to conversations whose wit and eloquence reminded her
of the brilliant talkers at the court of Louis XVI. Few
men of note came to America who did not visit Monticello.
There Kosciusko told the tale of Poland's wrongs and sor-
rows to a sympathizing and eagerly listening audience ; there
the Abbe Correa de Sena, the accomplished Portuguese phi-
losopher, displayed his wonderful powers of conversation, so
eloquent and so brilliant, yet so simple and full of grace, that
even children felt the spell of its charm ; there, too, La Fayette
moved his hearers to tears by the recital of the horrors of the
dungeon of Olmutz, whence he had emerged shattered in
health and maimed for life by the hardships undergone there.

Enlivened as it occasionally was by such visitors, the life
at Monticello was very delightful. The place being sur-
rounded by scenes whose beauty baffles description, mere
existence there would have been a pleasure to one so appre-
ciative of nature as Mrs. Randolph. Great was the delight
of a life when to this pleasure was added the far greater one
of daily and intimate intercourse with those she loved best,
and the frequent enjoyment of a society at her father's table

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

47

which in refinement and intelligence could compare favorably
with any in the world. It is not to be wondered at, there-
fore, that, with such surroundings and associations, Mrs. Ran-
dolph and her children should have been devotedly attached
to their home at Monticello.

The most welcome perhaps of all the guests was the Abbe
Correa, called in Paris the learned Portuguese, and ranked by
De Candolle with, if not above, Cuvier and Humboldt. He
resided for many years in Philadelphia, and visited Monticello
every summer or autumn, staying sometimes three weeks at a
time. The least troublesome of visitors, the most amiable of
men, as well as the most charming and interesting of com-
panions, his arrival was hailed with delight by the servants,
children, and grown people of the household. Botanizing was
his favorite occupation, and in this he found an enthusiastic
companion in Mr. Randolph himself, the best botanist in
Virginia. They spent hours almost every day in wandering
together through the woods and fields, studying the flora of
the country. In these long strolls he often stopped short to
talk awhile with his companion, when his conversation was
so animated and earnest that it was impossible not to listen
to him with interest, though the inconvenience of these long
delays in the return home was often great. He was of low stat-
ure and ungainly in his appearance, but with a noble head, and
large dark eyes beaming with intelligence and good humor.
The great cordiality and perfect simplicity of his manner were
exceedingly attractive to children, of whom he was very fond.
He was well versed in the history and politics of Europe, and
his powers of conversation were unsurpassed, the delight and
admiration of all who were with him. The room which he
generally occupied while the guest of Jefferson is still pointed
out as the "Abbe Correa' s chamber."

In 1824, Mrs. Randolph welcomed to Monticello, as a
broken-down old man and refugee from his country, the
General La Fayettewhom she had known as a dashing young
officer, the darling of the French nation. The touching
meeting between himself and his loved Jefferson has been

48 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

often described by those who witnessed it. But not less in-
teresting than their meeting were the conversations between
these two old men on the occasion of this visit. When in the
freedom of conversation over their wine after dinner they re-
verted to the stirring scenes of their early lives, its reminis-
cences and incidents, so animated did they become, with such
eloquence did they speak, that, carried away by the enthu-
siasm of the moment, the rest of the company involuntarily
left their seats at the table and grouped themselves around
the two sages, that they might not lose one of the eloquent
words which fell from their lips.

It was while dining at a neighbor's house with one of his
distinguished guests that an incident occurred which so well
illustrates the extreme amiability of Jefferson's character that
I cannot refrain from inserting it here. The gentleman of the
house was noted for his imperious and peevish temper. It
was already past the hour, and dinner not announced, and the
host's darkened brow betrayed his ill-suppressed impatience.
Mr. Jefferson and some other guests happened to be standing
near a door in the hall that looked down a side-passage into
which the staircase leading from the kitchen opened. A ser-
vant, aware perhaps of his master's brewing wrath, came run-
ning in all haste up the staircase carrying a dish with a roast
turkey in it, and as he made a sudden turn out flew the turkey
and fell upon the floor. The poor domestic stood dum-
founded, with the empty dish in his hand ; but Mr. Jefferson,
who alone had seen the catastrophe, stepped forward in-
stantly, and, picking up the turkey by its two ends, with the
tips of his fingers replaced it in the dish, as he whispered
kindly to the frightened waiter, " Never mind : put the turkey
on table, and say nothing of this."

Mrs. Randolph was the mother of twelve children, five
sons and seven daughters. Of these last the second died
when an infant, and the youngest, from being the seventh, was
named Septimia. In allusion to this, the Abbe Correa used
to say, " Your daughters, Mrs. Randolph, are like the Ple-
iades: they are called seven, but six only are seen." The

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 49

eldest daughter, Anne, who is described as having been so
beautiful, was married when quite young to Mr. Bankhead.
Some years later, while Monticello was still their mother's
home, two of the other sisters were married, Ellen to Mr.
Coolidge, of Boston, and Virginia to Mr. Trist.

The clergyman who officiated on these occasions was Mr.
Hatch, of Charlottesville, an Episcopal minister, and the only
clergyman of any denomination in the village. An incident
occurred connected with him which is too illustrative of the
primitive customs of the country at that day not to be re-
lated here. Mr. Hatch was on a visit to Monticello one day,
when Mr. Jefferson was suddenly summoned from his library
to see some persons awaiting him on the lawn in front of his
door, and who had come on " urgent business." On going
out he found two countrymen on horseback, each with a
woman mounted en croupe behind him. Their business was
soon explained. They had come from their homes, fifteen or
twenty miles off, to Charlottesville, one couple to be married,
the other, as their friends, to witness the ceremony, and they
were all to return home that day. When they reached Char-
lottesville they were told Mr. Hatch had gone to Monticello
to spend the day. Not being able to await his return, they
had followed him, and called Mr. Jefferson out to lay the state
of the case before him. Assuring them that everything should
be arranged to their satisfaction, he kindly insisted upon their
dismounting, and, conducting them into the house, sent to the
drawing-room for Mr. Hatch, and had the ceremony performed
in his own presence in the large hall, with such members of
the household as chose to witness the ceremony. This being
over, the happy couple, accompanied by their friends, mounted
their steed, and made their wedding-journey back home, and
have doubtless since related many a time to their children's
children the story of their trouble about the parson, and of
the kind way in which they were helped out of it by the old
man who lived on the little mountain.

The happy days at Monticello were happy indeed, but there
was a reverse to the medal. With some charming guests

4

50 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

there came crowds who were attracted either by curiosity to
see the retired statesman or by the desire to spend a few days,
or even weeks, at a pleasant country place. The number thus
entertained was very great; and, annoying as it was to have
one's home so thronged with company, — often self-invited, —
the expense it entailed was a still greater evil, for with the
guests came their servants and horses. The state of Mr. Jef-
ferson's affairs, already so embarrassed when he left public
life, could not stand this additional burden, and the corre-
spondence of both himself and his daughter betrays an anxiety
as to their finances increasing with each year. It was but the
foreshadowing of the grave results which were to follow.

Mr. Randolph's generosity to others brought bankruptcy
on himself, and Mrs. Randolph could now look only to her
father, whose own fortunes were tottering, for aid and support
for herself and children. In one of her letters written at this
time she speaks of her son Jefferson's assuming his father's
unpaid debts, of his exertions in his grandfather's behalf which
had saved his property from a forced sale; "and the sacrifices
made by such," Mrs. Randolph writes, "would have deprived
his revered head of a shelter in his old age. My spirits," she
adds, "and consequently my health, are beginning to recover
from the dreadful effects of this agitating crisis." What
mental anguish these lines reveal ! And yet there was a sorer
trial in store for her. A few weeks after they were written,
her daughter Mrs. Bankhead died, in February, 1826.

The two following letters so touchingly reveal the sorrows
of this sorely-tried family that I cannot refrain from inserting
them here. Mr. Jefferson Randolph was in Richmond at the
time they were written, trying to get permission from the
legislature for his grandfather to sell a portion of his property
by lottery.

THOMAS JEFFERSON TO THOMAS JEFFERSON RANDOLPH.

" MONTICELLO, February n, 1826.

"Bad news, my dear Jefferson, as to your sister Anne.
She expired about half an 'hour ago. I have been so ill for

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 5!

several days that I could not go to see her till this morning,
and found her speechless and insensible. She breathed her
last about eleven o'clock. Heaven seems to be overwhelming
us with every form of misfortune, and I expect your next will
give me the coup de grace. Affectionately adieu."

THOMAS JEFFERSON RANDOLPH TO THOMAS JEFFERSON.

"RICHMOND, February, 1826.

" MY DEAREST GRANDFATHER, — Last night I received yours
of nth conveying the heart-rending- intelligence of the death
of my beloved sister, an event for which I had been in a
manner prepared by previous letters from home, and adding
another pang to your afflictions. Let me entreat you to re-
strain yourself and cheer up with the hope of better times.
We have proceeded slowly, but surely, we hope, in your busi-
ness here. The vote given the other day was without debate
on the reading of the bill. ... It will be certain to be taken
up day after to-morrow, and by the next mail I hope to com-
municate its passage. Preserve yourself for our sakes. If
the worst should happen, which I again repeat I do not in
the least apprehend, neither my mother nor yourself can ever
want comforts as long as you both live. I have property
enough for us all, and it shall ever be my pride and happiness
to watch over you both with the warmest affection and guard
you against the shafts of adversity. How wretched are those
possessing large property and unfortunate in the vices and
ingratitude of their children ! How rich you are in the vir-
tues and devoted attachment of yours! Preserve your health
and spirits, and all other ills are but comparative and imagi-
nary, and we shall all, under the worst possible circumstances,
be rich enough for our desires. On the passage of this bill,
which is not doubted by its friends, our ills will vanish like
smoke. Your devoted grandson.

But the ills did not " vanish like smoke." To Mrs. Ran-
dolph the great agony of her life — the death of her father —
came early in the summer of 1826; a few weeks later another

52 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FJRST CENTURY.

blow, which could have been second only to that in bitterness,
— the almost certain loss of her home, — forced itself on her.
In the depreciated condition of property it was found that
Jefferson's debts would swallow up his whole estate, and leave
his daughter penniless.

The autumn after her father's death, with many anxieties
for the future, so veiled in painful uncertainty for her, and
with her great sorrow still fresh upon her, Mrs. Randolph
went to Boston to spend the winter with her daughter Mrs.
Coolidge. Removed from the scene of her recent affliction
and the daily cares of her life there, it was thought the
change would be beneficial to her health and spirits, as indeed
it proved to be. Enjoying the society and being under the
watchful care of a much-loved daughter, she received from
her son-in-law, Mr. Coolidge, to whom she was sincerely at-
tached, every attention that kindness of heart and the utmost
delicacy of feeling could suggest. In the haven their home
afforded her she therefore found rest from the trials through
which she had just passed, and time to gather strength to
meet those still in store for her.

In this visit to Boston Mrs. Randolph was accompanied by
her two youngest children, Septimia and George, while the
rest of her family spent the winter with her eldest son, Jeffer-
son, who was never so happy as when his mother and her chil-
dren made his home theirs. The two children with her were
placed at school in Boston, Septimia being the first and only
one of her daughters who ever went to school. The little
George, the youngling of the flock and his mother's darling,
who grew up to be a man of such mark and distinction, was
not taught his letters until he was eight years old. There
was, consequently, some difficulty in finding a suitable school
for him, and in one of her first letters from Boston, in men-
tioning this fact, his mother says, —

" The difficulty seemed irremovable, and I determined to
devote myself to him all the morning till the time for dressing
for morning visitors, which frittered up my time so that I could
do nothing. But a young man who has just left college has

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH.

53

opened a school for the higher branches, but to which he
agreed to admit George, with many kind and affectionate ex-
pressions for his grandfather, whose name he venerates, and
whose grandson he said he should consider it an honor to be
permitted to teach anything and everything he knew. So the
poor little boy, with tears of shame and mortification at his own
ignorance, accompanied Mr. Coolidge yesterday for the first
time, and after his return seemed so determined to have his
lessons ready that he hardly allowed himself time for his meals."
In another letter she writes of the little boy, —
" George is a very fine boy, and has excited a good deal
of interest, — so industrious, so sensible, and so affectionate.
The child's attachment to me is becoming a passion. The
moment he is out of school he runs home and throws his
arms around me. He said yesterday that he thought so much
of me in school that it made him unhappy till he returned,
and in going he said, ' Thank God, at two o'clock I can see
you again.' "

The letters written by Mrs. Randolph from Boston are full
of interest, and give a perfect picture of her life at that time.
They are addressed to her daughters Mrs. Trist and Miss
Mary J. Randolph, whom she had left behind her in Virginia,
as we have seen, at their brother Jefferson's house. From
these letters I give the extracts which follow. They tell their
own sad tale, revealing to us, as they do, the touching picture
of a gentle and high-born lady suddenly cast down by for-
tune and writhing under a great sorrow, which was embittered
by the loss both of a home and a support. Yet, unselfish in
adversity as in happier days, she feels more for those dear to
her than for herself, and bears with courage, calmness, and
dignity the reverses of fortune which had fallen so heavily
upon her. The first of these extracts was written years after
those which follow, but finds its appropriate place here:

EXTRACTS.

" I can well understand what you have suffered for the loss
of poor H., and the recurrence of the mind to the days of

54

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

early childhood is the natural effect of grief in the first hours
of its bitterness. When my dear father first died, my mind
for some time was in the state of one in a vision. I lived
over my life with him, every circumstance appeared to pass
in review through my memory, and if at that moment my
thoughts could have been transmitted to paper, it would have
constituted a memoir of his private life more complete and
perfect than can ever again be written. The journeys that I
had made with him in my childhood were still so fresh in my
mind that in traveling the same road afterwards in my journey
to Boston I was overwhelmed with melancholy recollections.
As much as every object had changed, the old scenes, asso-
ciated with the names of the places we had visited together,
rose fresh in my mind to make the contrast yet more bitter.
Yet I must do myself the justice to say that, great as that
contrast was, it was not that, it was not the loss of fortune
and of hope, but of the being on earth I most idolized, and
one of whom the thought had for years past become a habit
of my mind. His age and his infirmities, and the near termi-
nation of that precious life, had long weighed upon my spirits,
and the darkness of the future, impervious even to the eye
of the imagination, admitted not one ray of light or hope to
enlighten the gloom."

"November 22, 1826.

" Now that I shall have my mornings free, I can write reg-
ularly to you all, dear children of my heart. I have thought
of you but once since I left you, and that was from the morn-
ing of our sorrowful parting until the present moment. My
health, strength, and spirits have all recruited very much. If
hope could ever exist again in my heart, I should say that our
prospects are brightening. But I shall never expect good for-
tune until I lay my hand upon it, and even then I shall wash
my face to see if I am really awake and not dreaming. Now
that I have become reconciled to the prospect of earning my
bread by a school, it remains to be proven whether when the
cup of bitterness is actually pressed to my lips I can take it
with the same philosophy that I do a necessary medicine that

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH, 55

is to restore health. God help me if that fail ! I should not
long be here to eat the bread of dependence, or to see my
children beggars. Upon their success in life I believe mine
depends. Adieu, dearest Virginia. I dare not think of you,
or rather give way to my thoughts, anywhere but in the re-
tirement of my own bed-chamber ; for, though I can command
every other demonstration of grief, the tears will occasionally
drop from my eyes when I forget to restrain my sad thoughts,
which will revert to past, present, and future scenes, all fraught
with wretchedness and anxiety. Adieu again, and God bless
you and my other dear children and grandchildren, from
N. down to my precious little Willie and P. Remember me
to every one of them ; to my good neighbors all, and the
servants every one. God knows my heart is overflowing
with love for many and kindness to all."

"December 12, 1826.

" Perhaps I may get one thousand or twelve hundred dol-
lars from Congress, if they see fit to pay a just debt, — money
actually advanced by my dear father, originally five hundred
dollars, now, with the interest of twenty years, more than
doubled. But that is uncertain, although I have looked to it
as a resource to fix up my school. I have fixed my eye so
steadily upon the Gorgon's head that it is producing its effect,
and I am every day more callous or more resigned to the
drudgery of it. If we should succeed and make anything,
those profits might be placed in the funds, so as to give a
support for the years in which I may no longer be able to do
anything for myself. Unfortunately, I was educated as the
heiress to a great estate, and was learning music, etc., etc.,
when I ought to have been acquiring dexterity with my
needle; but I believe no good management of mine could,
under the circumstances in which we have been placed, have
saved the estate, although it might have added, and no doubt
would, to the comfort and elegance of our living; but my
education may still be the means of procuring us food and
raiment."

56 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

" December 28, 1826.

" With regard to a removal from the neighborhood, what-
ever place will be most favorable for our future business will
be best for us. Although I still believe we should have the
advantage of respect and affection — everything to persons who
have lost everything else — in a degree in our own neighbor-
hood, where we are known and appreciated, that as strangers
we could hope for nowhere else ; but this, after all, is a sec-
ondary consideration. I received a letter from your brother
(Jefferson) yesterday of so cheerful a tone that it has made me
feel more light-hearted than usual, although he still repeats
that we have nothing but our own exertions to depend upon.
I have never for one moment believed otherwise ; but we are
all young, and the struggle is over, our minds being made up
for the future, and I trust we all have strength of mind suffi-
cient to make the necessary exertion gracefully and cheerfully.
I hope Jefferson will be able to assist his brothers, at least
till /can contribute my share. I write that / boldly, because
with returning health and strength I feel an energy that I
trust will not spend itself in words. . . . We were at an
oratorio Christmas eve, where there was certainly a tinta-
marre de tons les diables ; but if you ask me about the music I
must answer you by a quotation from old Alberti, ' De damn
dog make such a noise me no hear de music;'* but I was
obliged to keep that to myself, and, praising that which was
good, say nothing of the bad. Tell my dear Lewis that I have
been made truly happy by hearing how steadily he has been
going on with his studies since I left ; but they have none of
them written to me. Ben's energy of character I depend on
to make him a useful member of society if properly applied,
and I hope James will not be deficient when he sees us all
cheerfully laboring for the same end. God bless you, my
dear Mary. Nicholas furnished us with a motto that we
ought to adopt : a tree without leaves, and ' reflorebo.'
Brighter days will come. This winter will be very serviceable

* A speech made by Alberti when taken to a fox-hunt and asked how he liked
the music of the pack of hounds in full cry.

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 57

to us all, and when we meet it will be, I hope, to show our-
selves worthy of our origin. Through life I have had a bright
example of fortitude, cheerfulness, and dignified resignation
to unavoidable evil. Once more, God bless you all, my
beloved ones.

* "Your own devoted mother."

" , 1826.

" Comfortable as I am here, and sorry as I shall be to leave
Ellen, yet, in truth, ' Home is home, be it ever so homely,'
and my heart is constantly hovering around it. For myself,
as I must resign the spot which sheltered whilst living, and
now contains the only earthly remains of my dear, dear
father, on my own account I do not care where I go ; for your
sakes, I wish to do that which is most for your interests, my
dear children ; but I cannot but look back to Monticello, as
Eve did to Paradise after they were driven forth into the
wilderness of the world. . . . Excuse this illegible scrawl,
but really, inexplicable as it may seem, I have even less time
here than at home, and nothing to show for it. We breakfast
at half-past eight ; at nine the children are gone, and it is
nearly ten before I get to my room; at eleven I dress for
morning visitors ; we dine at half-past two, and the days are
already as short here as they are at their shortest in Virginia.
The broken intervals in the forenoon I ' mend' for the children
and myself, and write. After dinner I strum a little on the
piano, and help George and Septimia with their lessons. A
most unsatisfactory day it makes, and a very idle one. Mr. C.
insists much on my walking, and I really, unless it was the
day we played truant from a stupid preacher, have never had
time. Adieu."

" December 21, 1826.

" I judge from the manner in which George's schoolmaster
encourages and praises him that he has never required the
spur. I can say with truth that / have never eaten one meal
in peace since he has been going to school, for his ' Come,
mamma, we are losing time,' rouses me from many a pleasant

58 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

conversation. Poor little fellow, it is the only trouble he
gives me."

"January 17, 1827.

" When I return we will determine on our future home, —
as dear Monticello is out of the question, I presume, for the
present at least. I acknowledge I have looked forward to the
possibility of returning there at some future day, when our
income in money, clear of the enormous encumbrance of those
large families of negroes, would permit us to control our
expenditures ; but it has rather been a vague wish than a
hope. However, one prospect of more certain happiness is,
my dear daughter, that we shall all meet again and be blessed
in each other's society. Wherever our home is, there also
will be love and harmony. ... In writing me the par-
ticulars of the sale" (of the furniture at Monticello) " tell me
what arrangements have been thought of with regard to a resi-
dence ; for no doubt the subject must have been much talked
of and some places suggested as most desirable. Remember,
in all deliberations of the kind, that I shall have no choice
but the interest of the family. I still think we shall have to
keep a school ; and wherever we can do the best in that line
will be the wisest choice."

"January 22, 1827.

" I have been very anxious to hear the particulars of the
sale at Monticello, and whether the paintings have been taken
down yet. My father's two, Jefferson's and mine, will, of
course, remain ; Mr. Madison's also ; I do not think it would
be treating so excellent a friend well to sell it. ... I should
also wish that the gold medal given my father by one of
the agricultural societies of France, and the beautiful medal
of Bonaparte, and Oliver Cromwell's picture, should be re-
tained ; also Coffee's bust of Mr. Madison. I hope Jefferson
will not think me unreasonable in wishing to retain these. If
he thinks it wrong, however, they must go. There were some
'articles of the furniture that I should have wished bid in for
me, but, except my dear father's bedroom furniture (not the
clock), and what belonged to you girls, and Septimia's and

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 59

George's little presses that your aunt Jane gave them, I did
not think I had a right to keep anything else. My heart has
been continually hovering about that dear home, and my
imagination at work with a minuteness of detail that has
spared me nothing but the sight. I know it is necessary ; I
do not repine; but I cannot but remember that such things
were and are most dear to me. Do not think that I give way,
my dear daughters, to low spirits. You will find that I have
as much exertion and self-command as our necessities demand.
I can say no more, nor must you be surprised if at times when
I cannot be occupied the unbidden tear will start. The images
at the bottom of my heart naturally recur when my attention
is not forcibly called from them, and that every hour, nay,
every moment, of the day."

" February 13, 1827.

" The marble clock* I should have prized beyond anything
on earth, and if, in our circumstances, I had felt myself justi-
fiable in retaining a luxury of that value, that clock, in pref-
erence to everything else but the immediate furniture of his
bedroom, I should have retained. However, in addition to
the loss of the clock, which I regret the more bitterly since I
know how near we were getting it, let us not alienate so near
a relation and friend, who, I dare say, is sorry for it now that
it is past. I am very glad nobody would buy the old sofa, as
many a time will my weary limbs rest upon it, without the
self-reproach of having retained a luxury, however cheap, that
could have been sold. As it was, the high sales of the old
furniture only showed the kind disposition of the neighbor-
hood to us."

" February 19, 1827.

" The approach of spring makes my heart turn to dear
home and my still dearer children, only to remember that I
have no home and am seven hundred miles from so many
objects of my love."

* This clock — the dial between two black marble obelisks — stood on a bracket
over Jefferson's bed.

60 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

" March 21, 1827.

" Your father speaks of joining McKinney, if he has not a
partner, ' somewhere in sight of Monticello.' Oh, how often
the words ' dear home' tremble upon my lips and dim my
eyes! Will it ever again be my home ? And until that ques-
tion is decided, where is our home to be ? I believe it would
be more convenient for me to remain here till the fall."

" June 20, 1827.

" God bless you all, my beloved children, from Jefferson
down to little P. Remember me to the old ladies particularly,
and kiss all the others, boys and girls. Do not forget to say
something to our kind neighbors, — they are too many to
name them all, — and to the servants, individually and gener-
ally. Perhaps if I mention the names of Wormley, Burwell,
and Johnny, it will give them pleasure ; and I certainly think
of them all, male and female, with great kindness."

" , 1827.

" In our poverty we have still some of the greatest luxuries
of wealth, — consideration and respect. I never feel my own
dignity more than when in company with a rich parvenu. Our
poverty is an honorable one. Our wealth, which was great,
was not spent in riotous living nor in extravagance, but it was
lost by the time and attention which others devote to their
private affairs being exclusively devoted by my dear father to
his country, in whose service he was worn out. He retired
from public life too old to learn, and too infirm to attend to his
own business; and this, with causes of expense incident to his
situation, is sufficient to account for our condition."

So end the extracts from letters written by Mrs. Randolph
during this sad period of her life. She remained in Massa-
chusetts, where she had been joined by one of her daughters,
and where she boarded part of the time in Cambridge, until
the spring of 1828, when she returned to Virginia. Monticello
had not yet been sold, and Mrs. Randolph went there to

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 6 1

spend the summer with her daughters. Her husband, who
had been traveling at the South a part of the time which she
had spent at the North, was at Monticello when she arrived.
She found him in very bad health, and on June 26, 1 828, he died.

This stay at the old home, besides being saddened by her
husband's death, must have been too fraught with painful
associations to have given her any pleasure. The venerable
figure of him whose memory consecrated every spot of the
loved home was gone; the probability that the place itself
would pass into the hands of strangers had now become a
certainty; and the lovely landscapes surrounding it, tran-
scendent still in their beauty, — could the joy of hourly gazing
upon them, with all the soothing influences of such scenes, be
unalloyed while the thought was ever present that that joy
would soon belong of right to others ? Monticello was sold
in December, and Mrs. Randolph removed with her family to
the house of her son Jefferson, who lived in sight of the home
for which she only ceased to sigh with life itself.

The present condition of the home which it cost this loving
woman such a pang, such a heart-wrench, to give up, presents
so great a contrast to what it was when occupied by her and
those dearest to her that it can but be noted as a striking
illustration of the vicissitudes of life. Over a scene whose
cheerful aspect and serene, tranquil beauty had seemed to
mark it as safe from the changes of fortune there now breathes
the spirit of ruin and desolation. The lawn whose soft turf
was so often pressed by the eager little feet of the young
children of the house, as they ran the race marked off and
witnessed by the aged grandfather, is now a waste overgrown
with weeds. The terraces, from whence the visitor looked
down on scenery unrolled at his feet whose magnificence is
almost dazzling, are falling in and not to be trodden.

But within the house the scene is still more painful. The
rooms known as the Madison and Abbe Correa's chambers
have within the past few years been sometimes occupied by
negro families. The drawing-room, where, amid surroundings
which betokened ease and good taste, Jefferson was wont to

62 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

spend his evenings with his family, now presents four bare
walls, while its beautiful inlaid floor generally bears marks of
the dance which the latest picnic party has had upon it. Ad-
mission to what were his private apartments is almost always
refused. Perhaps it is as well that this should be the case ;
for I imagine there are few so curious as not to prefer passing
by the closed door of Jefferson's library to looking in and
seeing it used as a kitchen and the cook busily engaged in
giving their dinners to the negro laborers of the farm, while
everything about the apartment, black and filthy as it is,
would make an Irish hovel seem neat and orderly beside it.

But Nature has remained constant to a spot on which she
has lavished so many of her charms. The same lovely views,
the same rich scenes, surround it still as those through which
she shed her sweetest smiles on its former occupants. She
would honor the dead as much as the living; and the un-
dimmed brightness with which the stars pour their soft light
upon the graves on that lonely mountain-side shows that as
pure an atmosphere still enwraps the whole as when they
moved as living beings through scenes in which for long
years they have slept the silent sleep of death.

During the year which Mrs. Randolph spent with her son,
the plan of keeping a female boarding-school, with her daugh-
ters as assistant teachers, was again suggested. While it was
under discussion, however, the necessity for it was removed
by the generous donation from South Carolina of ten thou-
sand dollars to Mrs. Randolph. Louisiana soon followed the
example of her sister State, by giving her the same sum ; and
thus the fear which had haunted her day and night, of seeing
her children in want and having herself to eat the bread of
dependence, was removed from the breast of this gentle and
suffering but brave and high-spirited lady. She now had the
means to secure for herself and those dearest to her the neces-
saries of life ; and more she did not ask. Nor more did the
country her father had served so well intend her to have.
The plan that each State should give her ten thousand dollars
apiece was forgotten as soon as South Carolina and Louisiana

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 63

made their donations ; while the just debt of the paltry sum
of twelve hundred dollars due from Congress to her father
for money advanced by him was never paid.

Mr. Clay having secured a clerkship in the State Depart-
ment for Mr. Trist, Mrs. Randolph's son-in-law, she determined
to live in his house in Washington with her daughters and
her two orphan grandchildren, the son and daughter of her
daughter Mrs. Bankhead. She therefore turned her back on
her beautiful native mountains, with all their lovely landscapes
and tender associations, in the fall of the year 1829. In Wash-
ington she was received with every mark of attention and
respect. The ladies of the cabinet, and Mrs. Donelson, who
presided at the White House, cast aside etiquette and hast-
ened to make the first call ; while the President, General Jack-
son, and the members of his cabinet paid her the same mark
of respect. Nor did General Jackson during the whole time
of her residence in Washington omit to call on her once a
year, accompanied usually by the Secretary of State.

In alluding to her destitute condition before receiving South
Carolina's gift, I find her, several years later, saying, in a letter
to one of her daughters, —

" But time, that blessed friend of the unfortunate, had com-
forts in store for us that the most sanguine dared not to an-
ticipate ; and I have been saved the horror of seeing my dear
children withering in poverty and the drudgery of a school.
Can I ever forget South Carolina ? But for her liberality, her
gratitude to my dear father, where and what should we have
been now ? God preserve me from the sorrow of ever seeing
the hand of one of my children raised against her ; for to us
she has given the comforts of life, without which life itself
would have been a burden."

Of her life in Washington at this time, her daughter Mrs.
Trist writes, —

" During the years which she passed in Washington she
resumed many of her old occupations : her taste for flowers
revived, and good music afforded her enjoyment, although she
no longer played much herself after my grandfather's death.

64 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Her habits of reading she never lost ; and she always began
the day with some chapter of the New Testament. She was
an early riser, in summer and in winter. She liked an east
window in her bedroom, because it enabled her to read in bed
before the household were stirring. Every year she visited
alternately my elder brother at his residence near Monticello,
in the southwest mountains of Virginia, or my sister, Mrs.
Joseph Coolidge, in Boston.

" In the spring of 1831 she was called on to make a painful
sacrifice such as mothers only can appreciate, — she gave her
consent to George's entering the navy. After passing a winter
with her in Washington, he had entered a school near the
University of Virginia, when a midshipman's warrant was
procured for him ; but he was yet a mere child, and his
mother's heart sickened at the thought of his going forth
alone to encounter the naval perils as well as brave the hard-
ships of a sea-faring life. She had, however, the fortitude to
approve of what was judged best for his future, and her sor-
row was borne with the patient and cheerful resignation which
belonged to her character. The recollections of that parting
as a trial for her stir up, even at this distance of time, the
long-dormant feelings which I thought my last tear had been
shed for."

In allusion to this painful parting, Mrs. Randolph herself
writes to her sailor-boy, a year after he entered the navy,
" The great sacrifice, perhaps the greatest I have ever made
in my life, was giving you up in the first instance. I hope
my old age will be spared such another day of agony as the
one on which I parted with you, my dear child ; but time has
reconciled me to the separation."

In the spring of 1831 there was a hope of recovering pos-
session of Monticello; and I find Mrs. Randolph's letters
written from Edgehill, where she was staying with her son
Jefferson, filled with feverish delight at the bare prospect.
After speaking of her plans in the event of her getting the
place, and of the place itself, she says, —

" Cornelia spent the day there, and, as everybody who has

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 65

been absent from it any time, was surprised to find it such a
paradise. All these are delightful visions, which serve to
amuse the hours of work, always dull enough to require
some balm to the spirit."

To the letter from which this extract is made, I find a post-
script written by one of Mrs. Randolph's daughters ; and the
touching devotion of the whole family for the old home which
it betrays must justify the following quotation from it :

" I have not been to Monticello yet ; the day I was to have
gone I was taken sick and obliged to stay at home ; but I often
amuse myself by looking at it through the little pocket-tele-
scope which I dare say you remember. A part of the north
end of the house only is visible ; the rest, including the por-
tico, is completely shrouded by the trees; but I recognize
one of our beloved old willows, and carry my eyes over all
the cleared spots and woods which chequer the mountain, the
playground of our childhood. A part of it at least lies before
me, smiling in the sunshine, and some well-known objects —
the roof of the stone house and stable — are distinguishable ;
and even the solitary tobacco-house, standing not very far
from the river, has the air of an old acquaintance. Mamma
has told you of our delightful castles in the air; and C. and
myself are talking of having silk-worms, when we go back,
in one of the pavilions."

When Mrs. Randolph first visited Edgehill after it be-
came the home of her son Jefferson, all view of Monticello
was entirely cut off by a group of magnificent tulip-trees.
To be so near her old home and not to have it constantly in
sight was more than she could bear. Her son, therefore, on
returning from his usual morning ride over his plantation one
day, was appalled to see these superb trees lying prostrate on
the ground, and one of the old Monticello servants busily
engaged, with others under his command, cutting them up.
To stick spurs into his horse and rein him up in front of the
old servant to ask how he dared " touch those trees," was the
work of a minute for Mr. Randolph. The servant, while appre-
ciating fully his young master's wrath, knew the power there

5

66 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

was in this instance behind the throne, and answered, in a tone
not at all apologetic, " I am acting under my old mistress's
orders, sir." " Then you are doing just what you ought to
do," was her son's instant reply. Devoted as he was to his
mother, nothing, perhaps, could have given him more pleasure
than this assumption of authority on her part over anything
belonging to him. Those who have often heard him relate
this anecdote will remember the countenance beaming with
satisfaction with which it was always told.

The intimacy and affection existing between Mrs. Randolph
and her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Jefferson Randolph, was such
as is rarely found in similar relations in life, and added not a
little to the happiness of both. Each had undergone the suf-
fering of having the home of her childhood — consecrated in
their hearts by the tenderest associations in life — sold under
the auctioneer's hammer. This, perhaps, made the daughter-
in-law particularly sympathetic with her husband's mother in
her sorrow. I well remember with what feeling she always
spoke of having on one occasion, when Mrs. Randolph was
on a visit to her at Edgehill, gone to her door and, getting no
response to her knock, having crept in softly. She found the
gentle lady lying on a couch in front of a window which
looked up to Monticello through the vista she had herself had
opened. She was asleep. Her face was turned to the window ;
a half-closed book had slipped from her grasp, and on her
cheek stood a tear, — the unbidden tear, doubtless, which we
have seen her declare would start when the thought of the
past forced itself upon her.

Mrs. Randolph returned to Washington in the fall of 1831.
The second year of her residence there she was joined by her
son Lewis, then in his twenty-second year. Conspicuously
handsome, full of life and talents, and with a winning ease and
grace of manner which made him the darling of every society
in which he appeared, few things, perhaps, could have added
more to the happiness of his mother and sisters than to have
him living under the same roof with them once more. Fasci-
nating as he was in society, his tender affections, his gayety,

AfXS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 67

and his strong domestic tastes mad.e him still more charming
in the home circle. He married later Miss Martin, moved to
Arkansas to practice law, and died there not many months
after his mother's death.

Mrs. Randolph visited her daughter Mrs. Coolidge in the
summer of 1832, and I find her writing from Boston to one
of her daughters as follows :

" If I had lost the power of walking and eating, for both
of which I seem to have renovated powers, I should resem-
ble the unfortunate hen whose brains had been extracted and
who sat still and fattened in her stupidity. I have lost my
memory entirely, but not my taste for reading, and if I for-
get what I read at least it amuses me for the time, although
it leaves but a vague, misty impression. I have read lately
one of the most poetical books of travel I ever met with, —

Chateaubriand's Itinerary from Paris to Jerusalem

After once having known the happiness of a comfortable home
of our own, how bitter is the moment that drives us from it,
and how little interest has any other spot after it! A mere
resting-place for the while, where everything is confined to
the present ; no future which brings anything but a change
of place, nothing to amuse the heart or interest the fancy.
If ever I can afford it I will have a permanent residence
somewhere, a home, in fine, — a feeling I never shall know in
a rented house."

In a letter written later she expresses great sorrow and
sympathy for a friend who had just lost a sister, and says,
" What can enable her to bear up under her loss ! Religion,
only, that never-failing friend of the afflicted, and time ; but
the first wretched days nothing can soothe or shorten."

Mrs. Randolph did not return from Boston to Washington
until the spring of 1833. Late in the summer she went to
Edgehill, and remained in Virginia for more than a year. In
January, 1834, she lost her son James, who died in his twenty-
seventh year. In the summer of the same year she was made
happy by the arrival at Edgehill of her daughter Mrs. Coo-
lidge, with her children, to whom their grandmother was pas-

68 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

sionately attached. A happy summer was thus spent with
her children and grandchildren around her in the home of
her beloved son, amid the scenes of the happiest as well as
saddest days of her life. In the fall, accompanied by Mrs.
Coolidge, she returned to Washington, where she spent the
winter, and for th£ last time had all of her daughters with
her. Her health, which had been good, gave way in the spring
of the year 1835, when she had an illness that her physician
pronounced the " breaking up of her constitution," and which
was so serious as to call her sons from Virginia to her bed-
side. She rallied, however, and, as soon as her strength per-
mitted, followed Mrs. Coolidge to Boston,

She never again stayed in Washington for any length of
time. The few old friends now living who knew her there
still speak with animation of the loveliness of her character,
the tranquil dignity of her manner, and the peculiar charm
of her conversation. A gentleman who perhaps knew her
more intimately than any other friend she had in Washington,
being asked not long ago to describe her manner and address,
replied, " She was dignified, even majestic, in her manner, a
little reserved when she first met you, but soon melting into
cordiality quickly fascinated you with the delights of her
conversation."

The summer of 1835 and the winter following it were spent
by Mrs. Randolph in Boston. On her way to Virginia in
the spring she stopped in Philadelphia, and sat to Sully for
her portrait. She arrived safely in Virginia, and was joined
at Edgehill by all of her daughters except Mrs. Coolidge.
The devotion which her children lavished on their mother
amounted almost to adoration. Her sons, active, energetic
men, with the cares of life often resting heavily upon them,
clung to her, even when married and settled with families of
their own, with the same warmth of affection as when they
had hung around her knee in childhood. Even the blight
on their lives which the loss of their home was to them was
not felt in its full bitterness by this united family as long as
their mother was spared to them. And as she visited each

MRS. THOMAS MANN RANDOLPH. 69

in turn they felt their homes blessed by her presence. Her
letters have shown with what warmth and tenderness of affec-
tion she returned this devotion. In a letter to one of her
daughters she writes, while speaking of her children, —

" My life is a mere shadow as it regards myself. In you
alone I live and am attached to it. The useless pleasures
which still strew my path with flowers — my love for plants
and books — would be utterly heartless and dull but for the
happiness which I derive from my affections ; these make life
still dear to me, and will make death painful."

The stay at Edgehill this summer was saddened to Mrs.
Randolph by the thought of the separation from her children
which must soon follow, for her son-in-law, Mr. Trist, being
consul at Havana, it was decided that Mrs. Trist, accompanied
by two of her sisters, should go thither in the fall. Mrs. Ran-
dolph herself was to return to Boston with her daughter
Mary, to spend the winter. Her son Jefferson never saw her
leave his home but with pain, nor did he ever cease to urge
her to make his house her permanent home. It was with
peculiar regret that he saw the preparations made for her
departure on this occasion, and so urgent was he for her to
remain that she half promised his wife and himself to make
their home hers on her return from Boston. The day was
now near when the family party was to break up and the dif-
ferent members of the home circle be so widely scattered.
All dreaded the sad hour of parting ; but how much more
severe was the trial in store for them than any anticipated !
how bitter the cup that was soon to be pressed to their lips !

The fatigue caused by the preparations she made for her
departure gave Mrs. Randolph a severe headache ; but, being
subject to such attacks, the apprehensions of the family were
not excited about her. She remained in bed for the day, and
received every attention which the tender and vigilant care
of her daughters could bestow, and the family retired for the
night without an anxious thought as to the condition of the
loved being who was the heart-centre of their home circle.
But at sunrise the next morning the alarm was given that she

7o WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

had suddenly grown worse, and her children hastened to her
bedside. At an exclamation from her of " My God, what a
pain !" as she pressed her hand to her head, her son Jefferson
raised her in his arms. The next instant the long slanting
rays of the rising sun crept into the room and fell on her face
as, laying her back on her pillow, the words, " Our mother is
dead," fell from his lips.

She died as she would have wished, in sight of the home
of her childhood, and in the arms of the son so dear to her
heart. Her death, which was caused by apoplexy, took place
on the loth of October, 1836. Two days later she was buried
at Monticello, in that desecrated graveyard on the lonely
mountain-side. She sleeps well, lying at the head of the
mother she lost so young, of the father she loved so devotedly,
and of the fair sister for whom she had such tender affection.
At her head lies her sailor-boy, whose dying request was,
" Bury me as close to my mother as I can be placed," and
whose career and success in life are marked by the words in-
scribed on his tomb, of " Sailor, Soldier, Statesman, Scholar."
A few yards off, a newly-made grave marks the last resting-
place of her first-born son, whose noble life will not soon, be
forgotten.

The same vulgar, almost brutal, mania of obtaining from
their graves relics of the distinguished dead, which has muti-
lated and desecrated her father's tomb, has extended to the
modest stone which marked her grave. The remnant of a
marble slab is all that now indicates the resting-place of this
highly-gifted, unselfish, tender, and true woman. But when
marble itself shall have crumbled, when the memory of what
the world calls greatness shall have passed from men's minds,
and the secular oaks shall have perished whose interlocked
branches over-arch the graves of this father and daughter, the
touching story of their singular devotion for each other, of
their dignified resignation in adversity, and of the purity of
their lives, will form not the least interesting page in American
Biography.

SARAH N. RANDOLPH.

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER.

A SKETCH.

" The General's wife must not be afraid !"

" LOVE to sweet Kitty Van Rensselaer, if you see her."
This gentle message was sent from New York, September
21, 1753, by a youth recently arrived in the regular packet
schooner from Albany. The schooner lay at Ten Eyck's
wharf, and the letter closing so tenderly was written in haste,
for the skipper, Captain Wynkoop, was to sail on his return
voyage that afternoon, and Billy, the negro boy, must hasten
with it to the wharf in half an hour. The message was sent
through " Brom," and the writer was " Philip of the Pasture."
Such was the familiar name borne in early life, among his
relatives, by Philip Schuyler, a young 'man of great intelli-
gence, spirit, and high personal character. The Schuyler
family was numerous, and Philip John, to distinguish him
from others of the same honorable name, was called " Philip
of the Pasture," a farm belonging to his own branch of the
family. His widowed mother was Cornelia Van Cortlandt, a
woman of superior character. At the time of this visit to
New York the youth was about eighteen, known in society as
a remarkably pleasant companion, tall, slender, with dark hair
and eyes, decided features, and a fine expression of counte-
nance. The great ability, energy, fortitude, and noble fidelity
to duty which marked his later career could not then have
been foreseen.

Precisely two years after the visit to New York, in 1755,

72 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

this " sweet Kitty" became the wife of the young man, as ap-
pears from a record in the family Bible :

" In the year 1/55, on the i/th of September, was I, Philip
John Schuyler, married [in the 2ist year, Qth month, and i/th
day of his age] to Catharine Van Rensselaer, aged 20 years,
9 months, and 27 days. May we live in peace and to the
glory of God."

Catharine (or Catalina) Van Rensselaer was the daughter of
Colonel Johannes Van Rensselaer, of Claverack, a little village
near the eastern bank of the Hudson, about forty miles — then
a day's journey by coach or on horseback — from Albany. A
charming bride the young lady must have been, very pleasing
in form and feature, with dark eyes and hair, and a richly
colored complexion ; rather below the medium height, but
particularly graceful in movement, with a sweet and winning
manner, and a low soft voice. The goodly company collected
to grace the occasion may well be imagined. Doubtless young
" Brom," at a later day General Abraham Ten Broeck, was
there. And chief among the wedding guests must have been
the stately forms of Colonel Philip Schuyler of the "Flats,"
and his admirable wife — " Madam" to the world at large ; the
revered "Aunt" to half the society in Albany, — the honored
heads these of the important Schuyler clan, and near relatives
of the groom. Simple in their daily life, our Dutch ancestors
could be grand on state occasions, when the best rooms in the
house were opened, the sideboards brilliant with plate, and
family portraits looked down upon powdered gentlemen and
ladies in rich dresses of velvet, satin, and brocade, whose lace
ruffles and diamond buckles were as much a necessity as
sword and fan. And no doubt a score of broad black faces,
smiling, wondering, gleeful, made up the background, dimly
haunting doors and windows. Perchance a cry was heard
from the street, " Bonnie bride, bonnie bride, throw out your
cookies !" when windows were opened and showers of sweet
cakes were thrown down to the merry crowd of old and young
gathered before the house. Such was the kindly custom at
important weddings in Albany of the last century.

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER.

73

Probably there was more Dutch than English spoken
among the company, — especially among the elders. The
marriage ceremony was, no doubt, performed in Dutch by
that most excellent man Dominie Frelinghuysen, pastor of
the Dutch Reformed Church in Albany. The Dominie, good
man, was in trouble about that time. An English regiment
was quartered in the town, and the officers got up a play,
which they performed in a barn, — the first theatrical perform-
ance in Albany. This was considered a terrible enormity by
the good Dominie, whose sermons for a time were chiefly
devoted to bitter denunciation of these proceedings. One
Sunday the sermon was especially severe. On Monday morn-
ing the Dominie found just within the front door of his gabled
parsonage a staff, a pair of old shoes, a crust of black bread,
and a silver dollar ; an old custom, apparently, — a broad hint
that the person to whom these gifts were offered had better
change his abode, a staff, provisions, and money for his jour-
ney being thus provided. Not very long after this incident
the good Dominie sailed for Holland and was lost at sea.

The young groom was in the army, and only a few days
earlier he had fought his first battle. The colonies were then
at war with Canada. In June Philip Schuyler had raised a
company of volunteers, and had joined General Johnson's
army at Lake George. After the battle of September 8, and
the victory won by the colonial army, Captain Schuyler was
sent to Albany to make arrangements for the prisoners.
Then it was that the " sweet Kitty" became his wife ; he
seized the moment to complete the marriage already planned.
The wedding was scarcely over when General Dieskau and
his aid, Colonel Bernier, both wounded, arrived from the
camp, and the young man devoted himself to making arrange-
ments for their comfort: he spoke French fluently, a rare ac-
complishment in those days, and one which rendered his
society very acceptable to the French officers. At the end
of a week he returned to the army, but before leaving home
he commended the aged general, severely wounded, as an
especial charge to his mother and his young wife. Very

74 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

faithfully were his wishes complied with. Both ladies seem
to have taken pleasure in doing all in their power for the com-
fort of the two wounded officers. It is charming to think of
this gracious beginning of the married life of Mrs. Schuyler,
who had scarcely thrown aside her bridal dress when, at her
husband's request, she devoted herself to these kindly offices.
And this pleasing opening scene was but the earliest of many
similar labors which marked every succeeding year for half a
century. Her life was thoroughly filled with gracious womanly
charities, — quiet, unobtrusive, and kindly, — now in her home,
now among the poor, and very frequently also the same gen-
erous spirit assumed the form of graceful hospitalities to the
stranger.

General Dieskau was very grateful for the kindness he re-
ceived. His aid, Colonel Bernier, wrote to Captain Schuyler
from Albany, —

" One can add nothing to the politeness of Madame your
mother, and Madame your wife. Every day there come from
them to the Baron fruits, and other rare sweets, which are of
great service to him. He orders me, on this subject, to ex-
press to you all that he owes to the attentions of these ladies.
If it was permitted to me to go out, I should already have
been often to present to them his respects and mine."

Anxious months followed for the young wife. During the
entire war — and indeed throughout all those colonial wars —
Albany was always a central point; now fearing an attack
from the French and Indians ; now in a turmoil, crowded
with English troops billeted on the inhabitants sorely against
their Dutch will. Captain Schuyler was, from the first, very
actively employed, engaged in important duties, and gaining
rapidly a high personal position. A high sense of honor,
strict integrity, promptness, and a resolute discharge of duty
were already his characteristics. A year after his marriage
he was on the western frontier at Oswego, with Colonel Brad-
street, as assistant commissary. Widowed mother, and wife
were anxiously following from a distance the young officer's
second campaign. There were often distressing intervals of

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 75

silence ; the rumors spreading through the town were often
alarming, often false. Then perhaps a wild figure would
slowly approach with noiseless step, wrapped in a blanket,
bareheaded, with scalp-lock and feather, with face strangely
painted, and, opening the skin pouch at his girdle, would
present to the ladies a dirty letter from the far-away camp.
The Indian runners passed very swiftly over the narrow
forest trails, but once within the town they assumed their
usual quiet, noiseless movement. Or perhaps some soldier,
with military clatter, riding express, would gallop to the door
of the gabled house, and with military salute deliver a packet
of letters. One incident of Captain Schuyler's campaign of
'56 must have warmed the hearts of mother and wife when it
reached them. It was during the skirmish on the Oswego
River. Colonel Bradstreet was compelled to retire suddenly
from an island where he had posted his party; the enemy
were approaching in force ; there was but one bateau, already
overcrowded with troops. " For the love of God do not leave
me here to perish alone by hunger and thirst !" cried a poor
wounded Canadian prisoner. " Rather throw me into the
river !" Captain Schuyler looked at the wounded man, then
at the crowded bateau ; suddenly throwing sword and over-
coat to a comrade, he seized the poor fellow, bore him to the
river in his arms, swam across the deep channel with him, and
placed him under the surgeon's care. The Canadian lived to
express his gratitude twenty years later.

The death of Colonel Philip Schuyler, the venerable head
of the house, marked the year '57 very sadly for his many
relatives and' friends. His noble wife continued to live at the
" Flats," gathering about her the younger generation. Cap-
tain Schuyler and his wife, with their infant children, passed
much of their time with her, and many of the better class of
English officers were often her guests. Among others, the
young Lord Howe was a frequent visitor, and became a great
favorite with the aged lady, who saw with pleasure an inti-
macy growing up between her nephew " Philip of the Pas-
ture," as he was still called, and the English officer. The two

76 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

generous young men became friends. The army of General
Abercrombie was now gathering in force for the invasion of
Canada, — a larger army than had ever yet marched through
Albany. On the 5th of July they embarked proudly on the
clear waters of Lake George, bound for the conquest of
Ticonderoga, — sixteen thousand men in nine hundred ba-
teaux, with one hundred and thirty whale-boats, led by Lord
Howe in a large boat somewhat in advance. Major Schuyler
was not with the fleet : his duties as commissary detained him
at the head of the lake. As he stood on the strand watching
Lord Howe proudly leading the fleet, he saw him for the last
time in life. On the 6th a solitary boat came slowly up the
lake, bearing the body of the gallant Englishman, and the
arrival of the boat was the first tidings Major Schuyler re-
ceived of the death of that most promising young officer, "the
soul of the army," as he was called. An express was imme-
diately sent to Albany with the sad news. As this man, riding
at a gallop and bareheaded, passed the " Flats," the family
rushed to the doors to hear his tidings. " Lord Howe is
dead !" he cried, as he flew past. " Lord Howe is dead !"
echoed long and loud through the house, amid sobs and
lamentations ; and the following day the wail was renewed,
when a bateau was seen on the river rowing slowly past the
house, bearing the body of Lord Howe, and Major Schuyler
guarding it. He had asked permission to escort the remains
to Albany, brought his dead friend through the forest on a
rude bier to Fort Edward, and thence down the river in a
boat. The doors of the Schuyler vault were opened to re-
ceive the soldier; and there he lay for many years, until he
was removed and placed beneath the chancel of St. Peter's
Church. On changing the wooden coffin for a leaden one
before placing him in the church, it was found that the nat-
urally luxuriant hair, which the young officer had sternly
cropped as an example to the army, had again grown long
and fine in the grave.

Within a few weeks after the ignoble defeat at Ticonderoga,
in which General Abercrombie's inefficiency as a commander

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 77

was made so lamentably clear, a bold expedition against Fron-
tenac was planned by Colonel Bradstreet. Major Schuyler
hastened in advance to Oswego. There, in the space of three
weeks, far away in the wilderness, he built a rude but strong
schooner for transporting the troops across Lake Ontario.
The craft was named the " Mohawk." In August the bril-
liant surprise of Frontenac cheered the heart of the colony
after the disgraceful defeat at Ticonderoga. One by one the
principal French positions were beginning to fall before the
English armies.

So successful had been the services of Major Schuyler, as
assistant to Colonel Bradstreet in the commissary department,
that he now received the appointment of commissary general,
an office of the very highest importance in those colonial
wars. The very life of the armies depended on his exertions.
The difficulties to be overcome were great and peculiar. It
was no easy task to collect supplies in a country so thinly
peopled and of such great extent, and when collected the
transportation was often a tremendous labor. Wagons and
horses and oxen in sufficient numbers for the draught must
be brought from a distance, and when ready for movement a
wilderness lay before them ; roads must be cut through the
forest, bridges must be thrown over streams. Probably no
other man in the country could have discharged these duties
so well as Major Schuyler, prompt, methodical, resolute, and
strictly upright as he was acknowledged to be.

While these public duties frequently carried Major Schuyler
to a distance from the home he loved so well, Mrs. Schuyler
was gradually fitting herself by practical experience for taking
charge of her husband's private affairs. The young lady so
gentle in manner was endowed with great latent energy, which
was now aroused, and, guided by natural good sense, rendered
her assistance very valuable. Her life soon became one of
active duty and constant care. Her whole character wa$ a
singular union of sweetness and strength, and she was re-
warded for her exertions not only by her husband's full affec-
tion, but also by his confidence and respect. His private

78 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

affairs were frequently intrusted to her discretion while he
was absent on public business.

In 1761, Major Schuyler went to England on business of
importance for Colonel Bradstreet, whose health prevented
his crossing the ocean. It was necessary to lay the colonel's
accounts as quartermaster-general before the British govern-
ment. Major Schuyler left his family in Albany early in the
winter, and in February sailed for England. Wife and friends
were very anxious for his safety, as the ocean was then swarm-
ing with French men-of-war and privateers. The voyage was
eventful. But it was not until the middle of May that Mrs.
Schuyler heard the details. On the I4th of May the regular
packet from England arrived at New York, and Colonel De
Lancey, a friend of the family, immediately forwarded the
letters to Mrs. Schuyler by express. Great was the wife's
joy and thankfulness on receiving them, and eventful was the
story they told. Major Schuyler, from the moment of sailing,
became interested in nautical matters, especially in the navi-
gation, which he studied carefully. The captain died. The
passengers and crew united to request him to take command
of the vessel, which he did. They met a dismantled slaver in
distress, her water and provisions exhausted. Mr. Schuyler
transferred the crew to his own vessel, and ordered the hatches
of the slaver to be opened to give the two hundred poor crea-
tures a chance for life. Soon after he spoke a vessel laden
with horses, bound to the West Indies. He urged the cap-
tain to look up the slaver and feed the poor negroes on horse-
flesh. A few days later Mr. Schuyler's vessel met a French
privateer, and was captured. They were not long, however,
under the white flag of France. An English frigate hove in
sight, when Mr. Schuyler's ship and his captor were both
seized and taken to London. Such were the tidings Mrs.
Schuyler found in her first package of letters. Rather later
came others more agreeable in character. Colonel Bradstreet's
accounts had been laid before a committee of Parliament, and
Major Schuyler had been highly complimented on their accu-
racy and neatness. He was indeed a very skillful accountant.

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER.

79

It was said there was but one man in England who could com-
pute more rapidly than himself. Of course the wonderful
sights of London, the Tower, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's,
were visited. But one of the marvels which especially inter-
ested him was the canal of the Duke of Bridgewater, the first
work of the kind in England, then recently completed. He
examined this canal closely, and his active mind almost im-
mediately seized the idea of carrying out similar works in his
native colony. He would thus seem to have been the first
American to conceive the germ of the important canal system
of our country. In the autumn he returned to his happy
fireside.

Mrs. Schuyler had been very much occupied during his
absence in building a new town-house in the southern suburbs
of Albany, — a brick building of ample size, surrounded by
extensive grounds reaching to the river. The family home
of Major Schuyler at the time of his marriage was an old
building of large size, highly ornamented in the Dutch style,
with gabled roofs and small windows, which stood very nearly
on the ground now occupied by the city hall at Albany. The
new home was built according to modern ideas ; and on the
return of Major Schuyler the household fires were lighted on
the new hearthstone, — brilliant, generous fires of hickory
wood, no doubt.

The wives and mothers of Albany were now relieved from
the terrible anxieties by which they had been haunted for
many a long year. Oswego, Niagara, Quebec, and Montreal
had fallen, — the English flag waved over those posts. All
fears of savage incursions, of French and Indian bands, had
ceased. It was a period of relief. Mrs. Schuyler probably
thought that never again would her husband be called to
severe duties at the frontier posts on Lake George and Lake
Champlain. If such was her belief it was but a delusive
dream. The most arduous duties of her husband and ..his
severest trials were connected at a later day with the same
region of country. But happily for her this fact could not
have been foreseen. Quiet days of peaceful occupation fol-

8o WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

lowed. At no period was the life of the young couple a slug-
gish one. Both husband and wife were too healthful, too
generous by nature, to be satisfied with mere self-indulgence,
and they worked in harmony. They were one in spirit. In
every community living essentially under Christian influences
the happy marriage is the rule, the unhappy marriage the ex-
ception. The tone of family life at Albany was sound and
healthful. But the attachment between Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler
would appear to have been peculiarly strong; they were truly
one in feeling and in action. And now the thoughts of both
were much occupied with improvements going on upon a valu-
able estate which Major Schuyler had inherited in his boy-
hood from an uncle of the same name. This estate lay at
Saratoga. The uncle, Colonel Philip Schuyler, had built
some thirty years earlier a substantial brick house, pierced
with loop-holes for defense, and surrounded by valuable
mills and a little hamlet. One luckless night in the " Old
French War" of 1745, a marauding band, Indians and French,
under Marin, burned the house, killed the owner, destroyed
the little colony, sang " Te Deum" on the ruins, and went
their way to Canada. It was upon this valuable property that
improvements on an extensive scale were now going on. A
pleasant country-house of ample size was built. The clearings
were enlarged. New mills were added to those already built.
The house stood near the banks of a brawling stream, called
the Fishkill, flowing out of Saratoga Lake, and the Hudson
ran within a quarter of a mile. As soon as the dwelling was
completed the family came to Saratoga, and it continued their
home during eight or nine months of every year. The mills
on this estate were of peculiar interest and value, and among
them was the first flax-mill worked in America. There were
large fields of flax and hemp cultivated under Major Schuy-
ler's supervision ; and no doubt a portion of the flax was spun
in Mrs. Schuyler's household, not only by her handmaids in
the workroom, but also by herself and her daughters in her
drawing-room at Albany. A pretty little spinning-wheel was
in those days as much a lady's companion as the tambour-

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 8 1

frame. A great deal of the finest thread used in families was
spun in this way for choice pieces of table and household
linen. Pretty table-cloths and napkins spun by the ladies of
those days are still preserved in many families. Even good
Queen Charlotte and the princesses her daughters amused
themselves with turning their dainty little wheels in the draw-
ing-rooms of Windsor and Kew. To-day the spinning-wheel
has vanished from the land ; though perchance the ghost of
one may be found in some old farm-house garret. At Sara-
toga in the good olden time "Adam delved and Eve span."
The master of the house was busily at work making inroads
upon the ancient forest, which then covered all the hills in
sight, planning new fields of wheat and maize, new meadows
for his large herds and flocks. An English friend promised
to send him the model of a machine invented in Switzerland
for pulling up trees by the roots very expeditiously. Was
this the origin of our stump-extractor of the present day ?

In the autumn the family returned to the town-house,
where the winter months were usually passed. Many were
the guests of interest who, in succession, shared the generous
hospitality of the Albany home. Colonel Bradstreet, now
very infirm, became an inmate, one of the home circle, sharing
in the gentle kindness of Mrs. Schuyler. A flock of children
were gathering in the nursery, prattling Dutch, no doubt,
with their negro nurses, sung to sleep by Dutch lullabies,
calling the blossoms gathered in the grass by names known in
the meadows of Holland, singing Dutch hymns on Sunday,
and all eager for Santa Claus at Christmas-tide. There was a
little chilcFs hymn sung by the Albany children in those days
in especial honor of Santa Claus, "Goedt licyligh man'' There
were troops of blacks of all ages, from the dignified white-
headed patriarchs to the toddling round-faced little ones, —
most fascinating imps, as they always are, — all considering
themselves as life-long members of the household, and strongly
attached to the family, whose interests they made their own,
sharing heartily all joys and sorrows in common. We have

not a word to say in behalf of slavery in the abstract ; but

6

82 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

probably the evil never took a happier form than among the
old Dutch colonial families, where there was so much kindli-
ness of feeling on both sides. The slaves were never very
numerous, and their names were usually recorded in the
family Bible with those of the sons and daughters of the
house. Over-indulgence was the common rule with the
masters. But Mrs. Schuyler's very large household are said
to have been remarkably well trained for their different duties.
With the gentle manner and sweet voice which gave an
especial charm to her presence, she could also be firm, and
never failed in energy. Like most ladies of the Dutch fami-
lies, she was a thoroughly good housekeeper : diligent,
prudent, wise, there was harmony in all her arrangements.
The style of living was generous, her table handsomely
served, the savory dishes rich combinations of meats and
sweets and spices. Many an admirable recipe might be found
scrawled in very uncouth letters, and in Dutch words often
misspelt, no doubt, in the old Albany housekeepers' books.
The education of the ladies was simple and practical. They
had few accomplishments, and no learning whatever. They
were generally taught to read and write and cast up simple
accounts by their mothers. There were no schools in Albany,
not even for boys, in the first half of the last century. The
daughters of the house learned to sew, to embroider, to spin,
as a matter of course ; they were natural, modest, merry, and
often very attractive, making excellent wives and mothers;
and those who were in prominent positions knew how to do
the honors of their house with simple courtesy. Among
those ladies not one was more beloved, more respected, than
Mrs. Philip Schuyler; her thoroughly womanly nature won
for her the regard and affection of all who knew her. It was
said of her that she carried with her the glow of sunshine.

The new house at Albany became a centre of the most gen-
erous hospitality, a hospitality which included not only the
very large circle of old friends and relatives, not only the
most important people in the colony, but also the poor and
afflicted. Old and infirm, widow and orphan, lame and blind,

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 83

Dutch, negro, Indian, — all these were often seen coming over
the well-trodden path for alms, receiving food, clothing, med-
icines, for which they gave a blessing in Dutch or Mohawk.
A kindly hand was always held out to them by the lady of
the house, with a gentle word softly spoken, a pleasant smile,
to cheer the sad heart. Charities in this form, the dole from
the Christian fireside, were absolutely necessary in those days.
There were none of the many societies for the relief of dif-
ferent classes of sufferers which are to be found in every town
at the present hour.

Colonel Schuyler — he was now in command of a regiment
raised by his own exertions — delighted in these hospitalities,
and in these charities also. He was very liberal and helpful
to the poor. Among the frequent guests from New York
were the different governors and their families in succession.
Sir Henry and Lady Moore came in '67 ; and a little later a
very different company appeared. A band of nine of the
principal Cherokee warriors, headed by their chief Attakul-
lakulla, came into the Iroquois country to sue for peace.
There had been war between the Six Nations and the Chero-
kees, and the last had been worsted. Colonel Schuyler met
the rude embassy as they landed from the sloop, and con-
ducted them to his house. It seems a strange wild company
to have filled Mrs. Schuyler's drawing-room ; but Indian war-
riors from many tribes were frequent guests under the Schuy-
ler roof. These wild visitors from a far-away region soon
moved westward and accomplished their errand : the calumet
of peace was smoked and the war-hatchet buried at Onondaga.

Mrs. Schuyler was now preparing for a temporary removal
to New York. Colonel Schuyler was elected a delegate to
the Colonial Assembly. The parents wished to carry their
flock of children with them ; but how to dispose of them was
the question. There were apparently no boarding-schools in
New York at that day. Negotiations were opened with a good
widow lady living in Hanover Square, with whom it was pro-
posed to place two of the children. Fifty pounds a year, two
pounds of tea, one loaf of sugar, for each child, were the

84 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

terms demanded ; their stockings and clothes were to be
mended, " but new work must be paid for the making."

The Assembly of which Colonel Schuyler was a member
consisted of twenty-nine gentlemen, all men of character.
Fourteen bore Dutch or Huguenot names, and probably there
were not more than one or two of unmixed English lineage.

The great political storm was arising. With manly de-
cision Colonel Schuyler took his stand on the side of his
native country. The oppressive measures of the Crown and
Parliament of England aroused his honest indignation. Re-
sistance to those measures marked his course in the Assem-
bly. From the first he took a high personal position in the
House, although one of its youngest members, only thirty-
five. Several important measures proposed by him were car-
ried. It is easy to imagine the anxiety which pervaded every
American home in those years. Wives and mothers were
all sad at heart. Those whom they loved most dearly were
about to throw themselves into a struggle terrible in its dan-
gers and its magnitude, a handful of colonists in arms against
the mother-country, against the nation which at that date was
the most powerful in Europe. Anxious days were succeeded
by sleepless nights or troubled dreams. Peace and repose
were banished from the fireside. Kindred were divided in
opinion and in action. Bitter denunciation and violent meas-
ures prevailed in every part of the country. The wife of
Colonel Schuyler, beloved and admired among her friends
for the sweet womanly gentleness of her nature and manner,
showed herself fearless and firm in the hour of trial. Her
nature was too healthful to be cowardly. Modestly and quietly,
but yet firmly and bravely, she stood at her husband's side
throughout the great struggle of twenty years' duration ; yes,
twenty years. The war of Independence began with the first
meeting of the Privy Council of England in which it was re-
solved to tax the colonies without their consent. It was
England herself which thus called the colonists to arms.
" Colonies exist only for the benefit of the mother-country,"
was the assertion of a leading statesman of the day. Those

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 85

words contain the key to the whole question. That opinion,
and the feeling connected with it, cherished alike by Crown
and Parliament, set the armies of England in motion and
drove the colonists to arms. Brave, hardy, resolute, as they
had proved themselves from their first landing on the West-
ern Continent, the American colonists were not the race to
submit tamely to unreason, oppression, and insult so gross.
Gradually the crisis drew near; and very gradually the colo-
nists themselves, as they were compelled by their opponents
to take one important step after another in the path of resist-
ance, awoke to the full importance of the struggle. There
had been no secret conspiracy on the part of the Americans ;
there was no treachery lurking in their hearts ; there was
nothing of blind prejudice, nothing of fanatical violence, in
their tone or action. They were indeed very slow to believe
that separation and independence must ere long become a
necessity. And it was this simple, manly honesty of purpose
which gave the full force of moral strength to the war of
Independence.

Many of Colonel Schuyler's friends were warm loyalists.
His opinions on all the unjust measures of the mother-coun-
try were well known and always frankly uttered. He never
faltered in his course. But his kindliness of nature and his
gentlemanly manner prevented all needless disturbance, and
in social life he still continued on friendly terms with the
leaders of the Tory party. Governor Moore and Governor
Tryon were frequently his guests during that period. In
1773 Mrs. Schuyler was busy preparing for the reception of
the governor and his family, while her husband was looking
out for " a good vessel" in which " the voyage" from New
York to Albany could be made with comfort. Mrs. Tryon
remained a month with Mrs. Schuyler, passing part of the
time in what may be called the gay world of Albany, in which
grand dinners and suppers and other entertainments prevailed,
where the stately figures of the ladies, with powdered heads,
high heels, and long trains of brocade and satin, moved about
the handsome rooms ; and somewhat later they were in the

86 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

pastoral wilds of Saratoga, robed in linen negliges and high
muslin caps over their powdered locks, peeping into the
flax-mill and the saw-mills, gathering wild strawberries in the
meadows among great herds of cattle, or in the evening sit-
ting on the stoop watching the humming-birds, or listening to
the wren and the oriole, or perchance to the howling of the
wolf in the nearest forest. The gentlemen were away in the
Mohawk country, holding " talks" with Sir William Johnson
and the Indian chiefs.

From early youth Philip Schuyler had been a frequent suf-
ferer from severe attacks of hereditary gout, the first seizure
occurring when he was a lad of fourteen. And now, during
the year 1774, the period of the tea-troubles, he was much too
ill to attend to his duties in the Assembly. He was a close
prisoner at his house at Saratoga, a great sufferer, under the
loving care of his wife as nurse, for several months. Like
all good, natural women, Mrs. Schuyler was often engaged
in the office of nurse to those she loved, — her gentle manner,
quiet movement, and sweet voice adding peculiar charm to
her services of this kind. Her flock of children was large,
fourteen in all, and of these six died in childhood. Six times
in succession the tender mother was called to bow over the
death-beds of the little ones so precious to her. Of sorrows
like these the world takes no note ; but in the record of a
mother's life they must assuredly find a place. These are
heart wounds which open and bleed at many a touch long
years later. The memories of those lost little ones are always
precious to the good mother. And the stern soldier-father's
heart was also very sore at such times. His family attach-
ments were very strong. When absent he often wrote of his
children in the most endearing terms. Six times in succession
the doors of the Schuyler vault were opened to receive these
little children, who were placed beside their father's friend
Lord Howe.

The first Colonial Congress was now about to assemble. Col-
onel Schuyler was strongly urged to accept the nomination
as delegate from New York. No man in the country had

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 8/

thrown himself more frankly into the cause of the colonies.
But he was much too ill at that time for duties so important.
The Congress met, and those two important measures were
passed, — the American Association for Non-Intercourse with
the Mother Country, and the Declaration of Rights.

With every month the country became more agitated,
more determined upon resistance. A convention of the
colony was held in New York in the spring of 1775, com-
posed of members chosen by different modes of election, and,
Colonel Schuyler's health having improved, he took his seat
at the head of the delegation from Albany. They assembled
on the 2Oth of April. They remained in session only three
days. Blood had already been shed at Lexington the day be-
fore this first independent convention met in New York. But
no news of the important struggle had reached them. Colonel
Schuyler returned to Albany, and from thence went to Sara-
toga; and it was not until late on the evening of the 28th that
the grave tidings reached him. His resolution had long since
been taken : that evening he wrote to a friend, " For my own
part, much as I love peace, much as I love domestic happi-
ness and repose, and desire to see my countrymen enjoying
the blessings flowing from undisturbed industry, I would
rather see all these scattered to the winds for a time, and the
sword of desolation go over the land, than to recede one line
from the just and righteous position we have taken as free-
born subjects of Great Britain. War has now actually begun.
I care not what others may do : as for me and my house, we
will serve our country."

Most faithfully was that declaration carried out, through
the long and varied trials of the great struggle. The follow-
ing day was Sunday. Colonel Schuyler was in his usual place
with his family, in the little chapel near his house. The ser-
vice over, the people gather about him. " He was the oracle
of our neighborhood," says an eye-witness. " We looked up
to him with feelings of respect and affection. His popularity
was unbounded ; his views on all subjects were considered
sound, and his anticipations almost prophetic. On this occa-

88 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

sion he expressed his belief that a crisis had arrived which
must forever separate us from the parent state."

The whole country now flew to arms. The battle of Bun-
ker Hill was fought. Congress voted to raise an army of
twenty thousand men. Colonel Washington was appointed
commander-in-chief, and of four major-generals, Colonel
Schuyler was one. He was placed in chief command of the
Northern Department. The colonial troops of New York
amounted at that date to rather less than three thousand men.
General Schuyler on his return to Albany as commander of
that department received a formal military and civic reception:
he was escorted to his house with full ceremonies, and the
town was illuminated in the evening.

Mrs. Schuyler must have looked at those lights with min-
gled feelings of pride and anxiety. And how anxiously the
devoted wife must now have listened to every rumor, every
convention, every incident connected with the war-cloud
gathering so darkly over her home ! Assuredly she gave
little thought to any personal risks or trials of her own. Good
women are always self-forgetful in the hour of danger, — they
may be even brave and resolute in spirit, ready to face danger
fearlessly in the hour of peril, — but for those they love they
are sure to be full of alarms and anxieties, even to weakness.
The good wife knew but too well the risks of the great
struggle in which her husband now held a position so impor-
tant. Still, it is said that she never attempted to hold him back
from duty. She gave him her full sympathy, and was ever
ready with the loving gentleness of her nature to cheer and
support him in the hour of trial. And often she was of
great practical assistance by attending to many details of his
private affairs while he was absent on urgent public duties.

Journeys, conferences with military men, Indian councils,
now followed each other with increasing rapidity. There was
difficulty and embarrassment at every step. But every diffi-
culty was faced by the general with energy and resolution.
Reform was needed everywhere. The deficiencies in the sup-
plies were inconceivable. " No arms, no powder, no blankets."

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 89

— " The troops can be of no service to you," wrote the authori-
ties of the colonies, with remarkable frankness : " they have
no arms, clothes, blankets, or ammunition, — officers no com-
missions,— treasury no money." And this was the force, or
rather the weakness, with which General Schuyler was ex-
pected to conquer Canada !

In August he returned from the frontier posts to hold what
proved to be the last Indian council ever held in Albany.
He was always a favorite with the red men ; his family had
been their fast friends for several generations, and he had been
personally adopted into the Mohawk tribe by the title of
" Tho-rah-Thau-yea-da-Kayer." The Indians were asked to
remain neutral. The missionary, Mr. Kirkland, was the inter-
preter. The result of the council was satisfactory, as the
Indians had already decided that their true course was neu-
trality. " This is a quarrel between father and son : we will
stand aside and have nothing to do with it." Such was their
determination at the time. At a later day Sir John Johnson
induced them to take up arms against the colonists.

Preparations for the campaign in Canada were now pushed
forward by General Schuyler, in spite of severe illness. He
was reduced to a skeleton by gout, fever, and rheumatism.
The tremendous difficulties constantly arising in his path
must have greatly aggravated his illness. " I hope in a little
while," he said, " to make all obstacles vanish. Much may be
done when people set to work with hand and heart." But
deficiencies in stores and equipments were not the worst evils :
jealousies personal and political did infinite harm ; clash-
ing authorities, the Congress on one side, provincial Assem-
blies on the other, aggravated the difficulties. Insubor-
dination was rife. " Connecticut privates are all generals,"
wrote General Montgomery. Neglect, dishonesty, peculation,
were only too frequent. " If I had not arrived here on the
day I did, as sure as God lives, the army would have been
starved." " If Job had been a general in my situation, his
memory would not have been so famous for patience." Ill
health compelled him to return home to Albany ; the sooth-

00 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

ing, tender care of his wife had never been more needed.
His headquarters were then fixed at Albany ; and in spite of
severe illness he continued his indefatigable labors, taking
upon himself the duties of commissary, quartermaster,
muster-master, and hospital superintendent. Congress did
not spare him. He was ordered to suppress a threatened
rising of the Tories and Indians in Tryon county, — to have
explorations of the St. Lawrence carefully made, — to repair
Ticonderoga, — to build a fleet of bateaux on Lake Cham-
plain, — to send supplies of timber for ship building at Pough-
keepsie. All these different labors he carried on at the
same time. The state of his health caused the deepest anxi-
ety to his wife and children ; they saw him suffering acutely
while at the same time he was laboring under a combination
of duties likely to exhaust a man in robust health. All that
tender, loving services could do to alleviate his sufferings, to
soothe and cheer him, never failed while he was in his own
home. But he was constantly called to a distance by the
important duties of his department. His health was indeed
at this time the cause of much public anxiety. Military men
of the highest rank were constantly urging him to prudence.
Prayers, both public and private, were offered for the preser-
vation of his life. The President of Congress wrote, " I am
extremely sorry to find you recover health so slowly. The
Congress have the most anxious concern for you." It is
indeed remarkable that a public man suffering so frequently
from acute forms of disease should have been able to accom-
plish such a vast amount of labor, physical and mental, as fell
upon General Schuyler.

In one of his many expeditions of inspection to the northern
posts he was taken seriously ill at Ticonderoga with gout and
malarial fever. Mrs. Schuyler hastened to his bedside. The
journey was one of exposure and fatigue far beyond what is
now felt in crossing the continent from the banks of the Hud-
son to the Pacific. Leaving her children with a sad heart, we
may be sure, and well laden with all that could add to her
husband's comfort, the anxious wife set out on the first day's

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 91

journey, accompanied by an aide-de-camp sent by the general
to escort her. Mrs. Schuyler has left no record of her pilgrim-
age, but from other sources we gather many details which tell
the story for her. The first stage from Albany was Saratoga,
the wretched condition of the roads rendering a halt for rest
at the country-house necessary. Hurrying through the coun-
try was impossible at that date, even for men. Few were the
women who passed through the wild region between the Hud-
son and Lake Champlain. From Saratoga the next stage was
to McNeill's Ferry, — a short one, only two miles and a half, —
traveling in an open wagon. The ferry was crossed in a raft-
like boat, wagon and baggage passing over at the same time.
On the eastern bank of the river the travelers again took their
uneasy seat, and were jolted on their way to Fort Miller.
There is a fall in the stream at this point ; a mile beyond they
embarked in a rough bateau for Fort Edward. The voyage
was short, only seven miles, but fatiguing, and even dangerous,
from the great rapidity of the current. The bateaux were
strong, however, and worked by companies of picked men
paid for this service by Congress, — a hundred men and their
captain, each receiving four pounds ten shillings per month.
They were expert, and all their skill was needed to stem the
current in critical places. They were four hours working
their way through the seven miles. Fort Edward was in
ruins ; but there was a large inn here, and a regiment quartered
in it. A respectable dinner was found here, bear's meat being
one of the delicacies provided for distinguished guests. Seven
miles of a fearfully bad road had now to be traveled over be-
fore nightfall. Those forest roads were always bad, but now
worse than ever, broken up into deep ruts by the constant
passage of heavy wagons and artillery. Frequently the track
lay through forest swamps over the trunks of trees, — the
" corduroy" road of the frontier ; frequently some petty stream
was crossed on a bridge of logs. Occasionally the travelers
would rise to the summit of some sandy knoll, looking down
upon the Hudson, and noting the spray from some one of the
different falls in the stream. There was ample time to enjoy

92

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the beauties of nature, for the wagon moved at a snail's pace,
scarcely more than a mile an hour. Doubtless the good lady
took little heed on that occasion of the picturesque points on
the road ; her thoughts must have been now with her children
in the Albany nursery, now with her suffering husband at
Ticonderoga. Night found her at Wing's tavern, half-way to
Fort George, within sound of another cascade of the Hudson.
With daylight the next morning the journey was continued to
Fort George, some eight miles or more, part of the way over
swampy ground, and then over the mountains which shut in
the lake. Fort George, like Fort Edward, was a ruin, — none
but ruined forts, it will be observed, to oppose an invading
force. But there was a barrack here, where Mrs. Schuyler
could rest and dine. Then came the voyage down Lake
George, on a craft of the rudest sort, — a large bateau used
for transporting troops. There was a sort of mast, and a
square blanket for sail ; an awning making a shelter had been
prepared for the general's wife. There was not a single boat
boasting a cabin on that lake. The blanket sail could only
be used when the wind was abaft, and against a head-wind
the bateau-men made slow progress. Had a storm come up,
the lady must needs have landed on a desolate island or slept
beneath the awning and without a bed. The bare plank was
both bed and berth in those rough boats. The banks of the
lake were entirely desolate, — a mountain wilderness clothed
with a ragged forest, — with the single exception of Sabba'day,
or Sabatay Point, as the word was occasionally written at that
time. At that spot there were a few scattered cabins and about
fifty acres of cleared land. That night the lady stood by her
husband's bedside, cheered, no doubt, by that look of loving
trust and gratitude so touching in the wan face of a sick man
at the approach of wife, mother, or sister to whose tender care
he resigns himself. Thank God, that is a look often seen on
earth ! Repeatedly during the severe attacks of the general
Mrs. Schuyler left her family and went to the frontier post
where he had been taken ill, to nurse and cheer him. He
always rallied under her care. And on the occasion re-

MRS, PHILIP SCHUYLER. 93

ferred to he soon recovered partially, and both returned to
Albany.

In the spring of 1776 three especial commissioners were
ordered to Canada by Congress, at the suggestion of General
Schuyler. These were Dr. Franklin, Samuel Chase, and Charles
Carroll. They were invested with extraordinary powers. Their
first destination was of course Albany. They sailed from New
York on the afternoon of April 2, accompanied by their black
servants, in a sloop well provided with stores, and also with beds
brought from Philadelphia. The first afternoon they coasted
the entire length of Manhattan Island, and anchored. April 3
proved rainy, with a head-wind, which compelled them to
anchor opposite the place of Colonel Philipse, at Yonkers.
Towards evening they " got under way, and ran with a pretty
even gale as far as the Highlands, forty miles from New York."
There they encountered serious difficulties. " In doubling one
of these steep, craggy points, we were in danger of running on
the rocks ; endeavored to double the point called St. Anthony's
Nose, but all our efforts proved ineffectual ; obliged to turn
some way back in the straits to seek shelter ; in doing this
our mainsail was split to pieces by a sudden and most violent
blast of wind off the mountains. Came to anchor. Blew a per-
fect gale all night and all day the 4th. Remained all day in
Thunder Hill Bay. Our crew were employed all this day in
repairing the mainsail. 5th. Wind northeast; mainsail not
yet repaired." So wrote Mr. Carroll. The different batteries
were visited, and situations for others pointed out. About
nine at night they weighed anchor with a favorable tide, and
came-to again about two in the night of the 6th. A fine breeze
carried the sloop gallantly up the river on the 6th, and in the
evening she anchored within four miles of Albany, after " a
glorious run of ninety-six miles. 7th. Weighed anchor about
six o'clock, wind fair, and, having passed over the Overslaw,
had a distinct view of Albany, distant about two miles. Landed
at Albany at half-past seven. Received at landing by General
Schuyler, who, understanding we were coming up, came from
his house, about a mile out of town, to receive us and invite

94 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

us to dine with him. He behaved with great civility ; lives in
pretty style; has two daughters (Betsey and Peggy), lively,
agreeable, black-eyed girls. . . . The citizens chiefly speak
Dutch, being mostly descendants of Dutchmen; but the Eng-
lish language and manners are gaining apace."

On the Qth the commissioners, with Generals Schuyler and
Thomas, left Albany early, traveling in a large wagon, Mrs.
Schuyler and the young ladies being of the party. A little
before sunset they arrived at the country-house at Sara-
toga. The roads were in very bad condition. Poor old Dr.
Franklin was sorely jolted and bruised. " General Schuyler
informed me," says Mr. Carroll, "that an uninterrupted water-
carriage between New York and Quebec might be perfected
at fifty thousand pounds' expense, by means of locks and a
small canal. . . . The distance is not more than three miles."
Here, it is said, we have the first official suggestion of what
became afterwards the great canal system of the State of New
York. Only a few months later, General Schuyler was called
upon by Congress to take the first steps in the work. " The
lands about Saratoga are very good, particularly the bottom-
lands. Hudson's River runs within a quarter of a mile of the
house, and you have a pleasing view of it for two or three
miles above and below. A stream called the Fish-kill, which
rises out of Saratoga Lake, about six miles from the general's
house, runs close by it and turns several mills, — one a grist-
mill, two saw-mills (one of them carrying fourteen saws), and
a hemp and flax-mill. This mill is of a new construction, and
answers equally for breaking hemp or flax."

A week passed pleasantly for the commissioners under that
hospitable roof. Mrs. Schuyler, with her never-failing kind-
ness, proved a good nurse to dear old Dr. Franklin : the rest
and good care of his hostess put the old man in traveling
condition again, although at one time he thought the tem-
pestuous voyage up the Hudson, and the fearful roads from
Albany, must shorten his days, and he set about writing fare-
well letters to his friends. The young ladies, a few years
later Mrs. Alexander Hamilton and Mrs. Stephen Van Ren-

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 95

selaer, entertained Mr. Carroll very agreeably. "April i6th>
I parted with regret from the amiable family of General
Schuyler. The ease and affability with which we were treated,
and the lively behavior of the young ladies, made Saratoga a
most pleasing sejour, the remembrance of which will long re-
main with me."

But little was accomplished by the commissioners. They
found matters in a very discouraging state, and the arrival of
a British fleet in the St. Lawrence rendered retreat a necessity.
Dr. Franklin returned to Albany exhausted by the journey
and its hardships. As a matter of course he stayed at General
Schuyler's house. The general was again at Ticonderoga,
but Mrs. Schuyler received him with her never-failing kind-
ness, and once more her care and attention revived the old
philosopher. The doctor wished to continue his journey to
New York in a " sulky," driving himself. This, his hostess
would not hear of: the roads were much too bad ; he himself
was not well enough for the exertion of driving. No, he must
let her make arrangements for his comfort ; he must be satis-
fied to take the easiest carriage she could provide for him,
and he must submit to be driven by " Lewis," a particularly
careful coachman. It was well that Mrs. Schuyler persisted
in having her own way on this occasion, for the road along
the -Hudson — one of the best in America — was in such a con-
dition that the doctor confessed, on arriving in New York,
that he and the " sulky" would doubtless have been wrecked
together, and that it required all the skill of" Lewis" to bring
him through safe in life and limb. He was very grateful to
" good Mrs. Schuyler."

Never were General Schuyler's labors more arduous than at
this moment, and never, apparently, did he more need repose.
He was still a great sufferer, but wonderfully active. "The
Indians, the Tories, the exchequer, the commissariat, the
transportation, the recruiting, the general supervision and di-
rection of military and Indian affairs, — all claimed and re-
ceived his attention," says Mr. Lossing, in his interesting
biography. And what was to be the reward of exertions so

96 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

great? New England had never done justice to General
Schuyler. The part he had taken as chairman of the com-
mittee which upheld the legal claim of New York to the ter-
ritory also claimed by New Hampshire — the present State of
Vermont — had laid the foundation of this prejudice, and sec-
tional jealousy added force to the feeling. There is always
childishness in these sectional prejudices, which are generally
strongest in the infancy of a nation, and which form no. true
element of love of country. Strong and partial attachment to
home ground, to familiar scenes, to the thousand ties con-
nected with them, is a perfectly natural and healthful feeling.
But contempt, hatred, and abuse of all that lies beyond the
border become absurd, unworthy, dangerous. That supreme
satisfaction with one's own canton, that supreme contempt for
the adjoining parish, was very general throughout Europe
among the ignorant and half educated only as late as a hun-
dred years ago. Nay, even your philosopher was not always
free from the weakness. How seldom did the Englishman do
justice to the Scotchman! how widely sundered in feeling
were the different provinces in France, the different cities of
Italy, of Germany! Such a state of feeling is essentially
puerile, a combination of vanity and ignorance. The different
colonies of America were no exception to the general rule,
but in New England there was a force in the feeling beyond
what existed elsewhere. It was probably the Puritan spirit
which gave exaggeration to the self-complacency to which
they were in many particulars very justly entitled. We are
all wiser to-day, but in the year of grace 1776 one of the best
men in the country was to be the victim of this miserable
prejudice and jealousy. The expedition to Canada had failed.
That failure was laid to the charge of General Schuyler. In
truth the blame lay with Congress, who had strangely neg-
lected to send the reinforcements and supplies without which
success was impossible, — reinforcements and supplies most
earnestly and unceasingly asked for by General Schuyler.
Calumnies as absurd as they were outrageous were uttered
against him. The active man was called a sluggard. The

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 97

frank man was called a traitor, a spy. The brave man was
accused of cowardice. The generous, self-sacrificing man was
accused of venality. But where is the calumny which party
prejudice will not utter? There was a frenzy of popular pas-
sion aroused in New England against the upright leader.

How precious must have been the peaceful haven of his
home at such moments, — the tender love, sympathy, and re-
spect of the good wife, the guileless affection of his children !
How happy the wife, the children, who can, in the hour of
trial, cheer, soothe, console husband and father !

But General Schuyler was not the man to allow these at-
tacks upon his personal character to pass unrebuked. He
demanded a court of inquiry. " It is a duty I owe to myself,
to my family, and to the respectable Congress of this State,
that I should exculpate myself from the many odious charges
with which the country resounds to my prejudice." He did
not abandon his post, however. In the winter of 1777 he
was very actively engaged preparing for the next campaign,
which all foresaw must be of vital importance. In April, on a
journey to New York, he wrote to his family that there was a
rumor he was to be superseded by General Gates. The an-
swer from wife and children reported " all well at home ; that
nothing seemed wanting but his presence as Philip Schuyler,
Esq., to make them happy." General Gates arrived in Al-
bany, and was graciously received by Mrs. Schuyler, who
offered him the hospitalities of her house. The guest seems
to have felt rather uncomfortable, but was civil. A few weeks
later came the court of inquiry. May, 1777, Congress ap-
pointed a committee of one member from each colony to form
the court. General Schuyler's vindication was not only com-
plete, it was triumphant. Never had his character stood higher
than after he had himself read his manly defense before the
committee. His appointment as commander-in-chief of the
Northern Department was renewed, with increase of powers.

Early in the summer it became evident that an invasion
from Canada by Oswego and Lake Champlain was intended,
Albany being, as usual, the point aimed at. General Schuyler

7

98 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

was indefatigable in his exertions during those eventful sum-
mer months. And one might almost assert that the inaction
of Congress as regarded that particular department was also
as marked as usual. They were sadly wanting in "military
electricity," as General Lee declared. It would seem as if
General Schuyler was expected to raise his own armies, to
feed, clothe, and equip them with little support from the gov-
ernment. There was lamentable deficiency in every branch
of the supplies, — food, clothing, and ammunition. Reinforce-
ments were called for in vain. Then, in June, came the proud
advance of General Burgoyne, with an army of nearly eight
thousand men, admirably equipped, under the command of
experienced officers, moving gallantly up Lake Champlain.

From the first, in spite of all deficiencies, General Schuyler,
and General Washington also, had felt confident the enemy's
expedition would prove a failure. The evacuation of Ticon-
deroga and the retreat of General St. Clair were a shock to
this opinion. That step had been taken without orders. It
was known to the superior officers that the post could not
be long defended against a powerful invading force unless
strengthened ; but it was expected that the approach of the
enemy would be retarded, at least, at that point. General St.
Clair was, however, compelled to retire, was pursued, and a
portion of his army defeated at Hubbardton. General Bur-
goyne advanced to Skenesborough. The whole country was
thrown into agitation. The alarm in Albany was great ; people
were running wildly about the streets, half distracted, sending
off goods and families. They dreaded the tomahawk of Gen-
eral Burgoyne's Indian allies. General Schuyler wrote most
urgent appeals to Congress, to the Colonial Assemblies, to
General Washington, for reinforcements ; and at the same
time every hour was employed in making the best possible
disposition of his available force, or in throwing every con-
ceivable obstacle known to frontier warfare in the way of the
enemy. Roads were thoroughly broken up, great trees were
felled across them, trenches were dug, all bridges were burnt,
the navigable streams were filled with obstructions. The

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER.

99

cattle were driven off or killed. The forage was removed or
destroyed. The region between Skenesborough and the
Hudson became once more a wilderness. Rude defenses
these, but in the end more effectual than the walls of Ticon-
deroga. The fall of that post had again aroused the popular
cry, fierce and loud, against General Schuyler. The Eastern
militia refused to serve under him. It was harvest-time, July,
1777. More than half the militia who came into the camp
withdrew to their farms, under the excuse of cutting their
grain. On the 2Qth of July the hapless Jane McCrea was
murdered by the Indians. The women and children on the
Upper Hudson were all hurrying into Albany for safety. As
parties of these fugitives, in wagons or on foot, were flying
southward, they met a single carriage traveling northward,
guarded by one armed man. Within sat Mrs. Schuyler. The
fugitives were amazed at her daring. Had she no fear of the
tomahawk ? Were not parties of Indians known to be lurking
in the woods, now here, now there ? She would have to pass
through miles of the dark forest, and but a single armed man
to guard her. Had she not heard of the fate of Jane McCrea ?
Mrs. Schuyler knew many of these people; she leaned from
the carriage to speak to them, to inquire after the women and
children ; she thanked them for their friendly remonstrances ;
but she would not listen to their entreaties to turn back. She
took leave of them with her usual kindly manner, and
smiling said, "The general's wife must not be afraid!" The
fugitives hurried towards Albany, and the solitary carriage
went its way towards Saratoga. No lurking Indian appeared.
The journey was accomplished safely. Mrs. Schuyler's object
in going to the country-house at that moment was to make
arrangements with the general for the removal of all valuables
to a place of safety. It was her last visit to the favorite home
where she had passed so many happy months with her hus-
band and children, among a simple people to whom her kind-
ness had much endeared her. The groves were then in their
midsummer glory. Ere the leaves fell, that pleasant, cheerful
home, the mills, even the very fences, were to be destroyed by

100 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the firebrand of the enemy. Already the adjoining country
had a desolate aspect. The meadows and grain-fields had been
laid waste by the general's orders, in order to cut off the
enemy's supplies. There is a family tradition that on this
occasion Mrs. Schuyler herself, to aid in the necessary work
of destroying the forage, set fire with her own hand to one
of her husband's wheat-fields.

August 10, General Schuyler was again at Albany, hurry-
ing forward supplies, when letters reached him stating that
he had been superseded by General Gates. Mr. Jay wrote
him an explanation : " Washington and Congress were ad-
vised that unless another general presided in the Northern
Department the militia of New England would not be brought
into the field. The Congress, under this apprehension, ex-
changed their general for the militia, — a bargain which can
receive no justification from the supposed necessity of the
times." Never was General Schuyler's devotion to the country
proved more clearly than on this occasion. He received
General Gates politely, offered all the assistance in his power,
and remained with the army in citizen's dress, without military
rank, to bring forward the Albany militia. Already before
General Gates appeared there had been a striking change for
the better in the Northern Department. The fall of Ticon-
deroga had at last thoroughly aroused the country to the ne-
cessity of exertion ; the success at Bennington and Fort Stan-
wix gave encouragement to the militia. The harvest was
nearly over; troops applied for earlier by General Schuyler
were now advancing ; supplies gathered by his indefatigable
labors were already moving towards Saratoga ; provisions pur-
chased with his own funds or on his personal responsibility
were filling the storehouses. Everything was prepared for the
repulse of the advancing enemy. And it was at this precise
moment that General Gates took the command. The result is
well known. The gathering of the American army on the
Upper Hudson, the slow approach of General Burgoyne, his
advance impeded at every step by the obstacles thrown in his
path by General Schuyler, pausing to fill up ditches, to rebuild

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. IOI

bridges, — no less than forty of these within a few miles, — to cut
new roads through the old forest, to lay corduroy roads of a
mile or two in length across swamps, and at length the suc-
cessive battles on the banks of the Hudson. After the battle
of July 7, when the ammunition of the American army was
all but exhausted, General Schuyler sent window-leads from
Albany for bullets. The American force was increasing every
day by the arrival of fresh troops. On the 7th of October came
the decisive battle, that most important victory for America.
General Burgoyne began a very ill-managed retreat, passing
his days in making up his mind as to the next step, passing
his nights in carousing and singing. General Schuyler's house
had been his headquarters at Saratoga; he returned there
after the battle of the 7th, and passed a merry night on the
9th, carousing while his army lay around him actually suffer-
ing from cold and hunger. " Schuyler's house was illuminated,
and rang with singing, laughter, and the jingling of glasses.
There Burgoyne was sitting, with merry companions, at a
dainty supper, while the champagne was flowing." So wrote
a German officer. The next morning on leaving General
Schuyler's house General Burgoyne ordered it to be burned,
with the neighboring mills. On the morning of the i/th the
English commander surrendered himself and his army amid
the smouldering ruins " on the ground where Mr. Schuyler's
house stood." And there General Schuyler himself, in citi-
zen's dress, saw the surrender which in justice should have
been made to himself.

A few hours later, Madame de Riedesel, the wife of the
German general, with her three little children, came into the
American camp. " When I approached the tents, a noble-
looking man came towards me, took the children out of the
wagon, embraced and kissed them, and then, with tears in his
eyes, helped me also to alight. ' You tremble,' said he : ' fear
nothing.' ' No,' replied I, ' for you are so kind, and have
been so tender towards my children, that it has inspired me
with courage.' He then led me to the tent of General Gates,
with whom I found Generals Burgoyne and Philips, who were

102 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

upon an extremely friendly footing with him. Burgoyne said
to me, 'You may now dismiss all your apprehensions; for your
sufferings are at an end.' All the generals remained to dine
with General Gates. The gentleman who had received me so
kindly came up and said to me, ' It may be embarrassing to
you to dine with all these gentlemen ; come now with your
children into my tent, where I will give you, it is true, a frugal
meal, but one that will be accompanied by the best of wishes.'
' You are certainly,' said I, ' a husband and a father, since you
show me so much kindness.' I then learned that he was
the American General Schuyler. He entertained me with
excellent smoked tongue, beefsteak, potatoes, good butter and
bread. Never have I eaten a better meal. I was content I
saw that all around me were so likewise ; but that which
rejoiced me more than everything else was seeing that my
husband was out of all danger. As soon as we had finished
dinner, he invited me to take up my residence at his house,
which was situated in Albany. I sent and asked my husband
what I should do. He sent me word to accept the invitation.
General Schuyler was so obliging as to send with me a French
officer, who was a very agreeable man. As soon as he had
escorted me to the house where we were to remain, he went
back." The house was an inn, half-way to Albany. General
Schuyler had already sent Colonel Varick to Albany to ask
Mrs. Schuyler to prepare for guests. The next day Generals
Burgoyne, Riedesel, and Philips, and their suite, arrived.
Twenty-two of the chief prisoners of war were presented to
Mrs. Schuyler in her drawing-room that evening, including
the charming German lady and her three little children.
" They loaded us with kindness," said Madame de Riedesel,
"and they behaved in the same manner to General Burgoyne,
though he had ordered their handsome houses to be burned,
— without any necessity, it was said. Even General Burgoyne
was deeply moved at their magnanimity, and said to General
Schuyler, ' Is it to me, who have done you so much harm,
that you show so much kindness ?' ' That is the fate of war,'
said the brave man ; ' let us say no more about it.' We re-

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. 103

mained three days with them, and they seemed very reluctant
to let us go." There is apparently a misprint in the number of
days thus spent with Mrs. Schuyler : it was probably ten days.
When the excellent German lady left Albany, she carried with
her three little daughters, — Gustava, Frederica, and Caroline :
later she had two more, bearing the peculiar names of
America and Canada. The good lady also carried with her
the colors of the German troops, concealed in a bag by Gen-
eral Riedesel, who would not surrender them at Saratoga.
They were afterwards sewed up in a mattress " by an honor-
able German tailor," and thus smuggled out of the country.

General Burgoyne remained ten days at Mrs. Schuyler's,
while preparing his dispatches. At a later date, in speaking
in Parliament of the kindness of General Schuyler, he made
a strong acknowledgment : " He sent an aide-de-camp to con-
duct me to Albany, in order, as he expressed it, to procure
better quarters than a stranger might be able to find. That
gentleman conducted me to a very elegant house, and, to my
great surprise, presented me to Mrs. Schuyler and her family.
In that house I remained during my whole stay in Albany,
with a table of more than twenty covers for me and my friends,
and every other demonstration of hospitality." The English
general remained in Albany until October 26. Colonel Var-
ick wrote to General Schuyler, October 25, " Generals Bur-
goyne and Riedesel and their retinue are still here. They
give Mrs. Schuyler no small trouble. The former's dispatches
are not yet completed. On Saturday he mentioned to Mrs.
Schuyler, with tears in his eyes, his situation, that he had re-
ceived so much civility from you, and again from Mrs. Schuyler,
whose property he had destroyed, but pleaded that it was
thought necessary to save his army. He behaves with great
politeness."

"The British commander," says M. de Chastellux, " was
extremely well received by Mrs. Schuyler, and lodged in the
best apartment in the house. An excellent supper was served
him in the evening, the honors of which were done with so
much grace that he was affected even to tears, and said, with a

104

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

deep sigh, ' Indeed, this is doing too much for a man who has
ravaged their lands, and burned their dwellings.' The next
morning he was reminded of his misfortunes by an incident
which would have appeared gay to any one else. His bed
was prepared in a large room, but, as he had a numerous
suite, several mattresses were spread on the floor for some
officers to sleep near him. Mrs. Schuyler's second son, a
little spoilt child of about seven, very forward and arch, as all
American children are, but very amiable, was running about
the house all the morning, according to custom, and, opening
the door of the saloon, he laughed at seeing all the English
officers collected, and, shutting the door after him, cried, ' You
are all my prisoners.' This innocent cruelty rendered them
more melancholy."

Mrs. Schuyler's skillful management as the head of a large
household must have been put to a severe test by this numer-
ous and sudden invasion. The strain upon the domestic com-
missariat must have been heavy. In winter there was always
abundance of game brought into Albany by Indians and other
hunters ; venison, bear's meat, wild turkeys, grouse, and wild
ducks were almost as common as beefsteaks are to-day ; and
the supply of fish was very rich. But in autumn some of
those delicacies were probably wanting. The old negro cooks
must have been half distracted. But happily not one of them
suffered the fate of Vatel : the bill of fare was complete. Mrs.
Schuyler in the drawing-room and her negro aids in pantry
and kitchen all came off with flying colors.

The court-martial demanded by General Schuyler was de-
layed until October, 1778. He was then tried upon the charge
of " neglect of duty," in being absent from Ticonderoga at the
time of the evacuation. As all his friends anticipated, he was
acquitted with "highest honor." He then, early in 1779, re-
signed his commission as major-general. He was now a dele-
gate to Congress. He was anxious that Mrs. Schuyler and
his daughters should go with him to Philadelphia. The
Albany house was accordingly closed, and the ladies accom-
panied the general to what was then the political capital of

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. IO5

the country. They shared for a time in the usual gayeties,
but most of the winter was passed at Morristown in the camp.
General Schuyler was strongly attached to General Washing-
ton. He was, indeed, on terms of intimacy with the noble
chief, who had a great regard for him, and frequently in writing
to him signed his letters " your affectionate friend," or " yours
affectionately," an honor conferred on very few of his corre-
spondents. General Schuyler occupied a modest house near
headquarters. Mrs. Washington and a number of other ladies,
wives of the superior officers, were in the camp that winter, and
the society was very agreeable. The ladies were busy making
shirts and knitting stockings for the soldiers. No doubt Mrs.
Schuyler's knitting-needles were actively at work, and the
young ladies must have taken part in the shirt-making. One
of General Washington's aides, Colonel Hamilton, became
attached to Miss Eliza Schuyler. An engagement took place,
and in the spring they were married. The eldest daughter,
Miss Angelica Schuyler, had been already married several
years earlier to Mr. Church, an English gentleman.

A few months later, during the winter, M. de Chastellux
visited Albany, and was a guest of General Schuyler. "A
handsome house half-way up the bank opposite the ferry
seems to attract attention, and to invite strangers to stop at
General Schuyler's, who is the proprietor as well as architect.
I had recommendations to him from all quarters, but particu-
larly from General Washington and Mrs. Church. I had be-
sides given rendezvous to Colonel Hamilton, who had just
married another of his daughters, and was preceded by the
Vicomte de Noailles and the Comte de Damas, who I knew
were arrived the night before. The sole difficulty therefore
consisted in passing the river. Whilst the boat was making
its way with difficulty through the flakes of ice, which we
were obliged to break as we advanced, Mr. Lynch, who is not
indifferent about a good dinner, contemplating General Schuy-
ler's house, mournfully said to me, ' I am sure the Vicomte
and Damas are now at table, where they have good cheer and
good company, while we are here knocking our heels in hopes

106 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of getting this evening to some wretched ale-house !' I par-
took a little of his anxiety, but diverted myself by assuring
him that they saw us from the windows, that I even dis-
tinguished the Vicomte de Noailles, who was looking at us
through a telescope, and that he was going to send somebody
to conduct us, on our landing, to that excellent house, where
we should find dinner ready to be served ; I even pretended
that a sleigh I had seen descending towards the river was de-
signed for us. As chance would have it, never was conjecture
more just. The first person we saw on shore was the Cheva-
lier de Mauduit, who was waiting for us with the general's
sleigh, into which we quickly stepped, and were conveyed in
an instant into a handsome saloon, near a good fire, with Mr.
Schuyler, his wife and daughters. While we were warming
ourselves, dinner was served, to which every one did honor,
as well as to the Madeira, which was excellent, and made us
completely forget the rigor of the season and the fatigue of
the journey. General Schuyler's family was composed of
Mrs. Hamilton, his second daughter, who has a mild, agree-
able countenance; of Miss Peggy Schuyler, whose features
are animated and striking ; of another charming girl, only
eight years old; and of three boys, the eldest of whom is fifteen,
the handsomest children one can see. He is himself about
fifty, but already gouty and infirm. The government are at
present paying their court to him and pressing him to accept
the office of Secretary at War."

Miss Margaret Schuyler, mentioned by M. de Chastellux,
married a few months later Stephen Van Rensselaer, the Pa-
troon of Albany. The charming girl of eight was Cornelia,
who married Washington Morton. The three sons were John,
who died early, Philip, a member of Congress in 1820, and
Rensselaer, an officer in the army.

Among the many guests whom Mrs. Schuyler received
with her usual courteous kindness at this period was Aaron
Burr, coming to Albany to practice law, — he who twenty
years later brought such grief upon her family by the death
of General Hamilton.

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. IO/

The summer of 1781 was marked by an important incident.
A secret plot was formed to capture General Schuyler and
carry him a prisoner to Canada. John Walter Meyer, a bold
and reckless partisan, holding an officer's commission in the
British service, was employed to carry out the plan. This
man knew General Schuyler personally, and had been a guest
at his table. The moment chosen for the capture was in the
month of August, when the general was at his town-house,
about half a mile below Albany. Several abductions of im-
portance had recently taken place, and others were known to
be planned. General Washington wrote to General Schuyler
urging caution upon him. Accordingly, a guard of six men
were on duty at the house. Meyer brought his band of In-
dians, Canadians, and Tories into the neighborhood, conceal-
ing them for ten days among the pine woods, while he recon-
noitered the ground. Seizing a Dutch laborer, he forced the
man to give him the information he needed about the condi-
tion of things at the house, and then released him under an
oath of secrecy. The laborer, however, went immediately to
the general and revealed the plot, — very probably in Dutch.
A loyalist friend of the general also gave him a hint at the
same time. Towards evening of a sultry day in August the
general, Mrs. Schuyler, and their children were collected in
the hall ; an infant, the youngest child of the house, lay asleep
in its cradle in an adjoining room. The servants were scat-
tered about in various ways. Three of the guards were off
duty, asleep in the basement; the other three were lying on
the grass in the garden, their arms within reach. A servant
came to the general, saying that a stranger wished to see him
at the back gate. General Schuyler understood the summons.
Doors and windows were instantly closed and barred, and the
family collected in an upper room. The general ran to his
bedroom for fire-arms, when from the window he saw a wild
band gathering stealthily around the house, — Meyer and his
gang. He fired a pistol from the window to arouse the sleep-
ing guard and alarm the town. The guard sprang to their
arms, but were soon overpowered. The Indians burst open

108 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the doors and rushed into the house. Suddenly Mrs. Schuy-
ler, in wild anxiety, looking over the family group, missed
her youngest child, the infant in the cradle ! In the wild
confusion, the safety of the general being the first object, the
sleeping child had been forgotten. The mother ran to the
door of the room, but one thought in her heart, — to recover
her child. But the general detained her, saying that her
own life must not be sacrificed. Margaret Schuyler, the bril-
liant young girl, heard her mother's cry, saw the detaining
hand of her father, and sprang to the door herself, flew down
two flights of stairs, rushed into the din and confusion below,
snatched her little sister from the cradle, and was running up-
stairs with the baby in her arms, when an Indian aimed a
tomahawk at her. Her dress was cut; the weapon passed
within a few inches of the infant's head, and lodged in the rail-
ing of the stairs. Most of the band were now collected in the
dining-room, plundering the plate-closet. Meyer saw the
young girl running up-stairs with the infant, and, taking her for
the nurse, called out, " Wench, wench, where is your master ?"
" Gone to alarm the town !" was the answer, and in another
moment she had gained the upper room in safety and laid the
child in her mother's arms. There are few actions recorded
of young girls so generous and so brave as the rescue of her
baby sister from that wild band by Margaret Schuyler. Her
answer to Meyer had also alarmed the marauders ; they
paused a moment in their plunder ; the voice of the general
was heard calling in a loud tone, as if speaking to a large
party of men, " Come on, my brave fellows ! Surround the
house; seize the villains who are plundering!" Anxious to
secure the booty, which was very valuable, and fearing a
rescue, Meyer and his gang suddenly retreated, — actually put
to flight by the general's voice. They carried off a large
amount of plate, which was never recovered. It proved the
general's ransom, for their desire to secure it saved him from
capture. The infant so nobly rescued by her sister was
Catharine Schuyler, who died at Oswego, the widow of Major
Cochran, in 1858.

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER.

109

The surrender of Cornwallis in October, i/Si, was the
closing scene of the great drama. Then came the peace in
1783. The life of General Schuyler was, however, scarcely
less active than during the war. He became Surveyor-General
of the State, and was also Indian Commissioner. At the adop-
tion of the Constitution in 1789 he was elected to the Senate.
His political influence and sound judgment are well known to
have contributed more than those of any other man to the
code of laws adopted by his native State. But the labors
which especially marked the closing years of the century
were connected with the canals, which had been a dream of
his for thirty years. In 1792 the State legislature passed a
law carrying out two favorite plans of his own : two canals
were to be built, one to open navigation between Little Falls
and Oneida Lake, the other to unite the Upper Hudson and
Lake Champlain. General Schuyler became president of both
companies. It is an interesting fact that among the many
guests received by Mrs. Schuyler in those years was a young
French emigre, an engineer who brought letters to General
Schuyler, Marc Isambert Brunei, who was employed in making
surveys for the new canals. Many years later the same talent
conceived and built the Thames Tunnel.

These cares and interests of the general were in a measure
shared by Mrs. Schuyler. The conversation at the cheerful
fireside and at the hospitable table now turned upon surveys
in distant wilds, on the banks of the Genesee, on the Seneca,
or upon locks and canals, or upon practical improvements in
agriculture. Good wife as she was, the lady gave her sym-
pathies to these labors of her husband, and took pleasure in
doing the honors of her house to the many different guests
brought under their roof by the general. Her children were
now all grown up, and a flock of grandchildren were gather-
ing about her. To all these she was very dear. As she ad-
vanced in life she became less active; she grew large and
stout. But the sweet voice, the gentle manner, the pleasant
smile, were still there. The brilliant sunshine of youth may
pass away with years, but there is a softened glow lingering

HO WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

over the close of a well-spent loving life, which is even more
precious. It was remarked by those who knew Mrs. Schuy-
ler intimately that she was "much loved by tJte poor" The re-
mark reveals her character. There are many who are kind and
liberal to the poor; there are/ew who really win their love.
She herself gave not only alms but loving sympathy also,
which was returned with affection.

In preparing this brief sketch, a mere outline of the life of
a faithful American wife and mother of the past century, it
has been a matter of regret that no letters of her own have
been preserved. Probably she wrote very little. This fact is
characteristic of the period at which she lived. Few Ameri-
can women at that day wrote easily, fluently. It was prob-
ably something of a task to write even to the husband and
children she loved so well ; and her few letters may have been
connected with family matters, considered trifling at a later
day. It was chiefly business letters which were held to be of
lasting value at that period. But the memory of Mrs. Schuy-
ler has been preserved with so much distinctness, so much
affection, by her family and friends, that we receive a very
clear impression of her sweet, gracious, womanly character, — a
character which also commands our respect from its elements
of energy and firmness. Although but an outline, it is too
pleasing to be allowed to fade utterly away, especially as hers
was a life so closely interwoven with events of great public
importance.

Her death was very sudden. She died of apoplexy early
in the year 1803. General Schuyler never recovered from
the bereavement. He lingered for a time in feeble health,
tenderly watched and nursed by his youngest daughter, —
" my dear Kitty," as he called her, the child rescued from
the Indian tomahawk. He died in 1804, after the fatigue of
going over the old battle-field at Saratoga with two distin-
guished French travelers.

Some weeks after Mrs. Schuyler's death he wrote to a
relative, —

" My trial has been severe. I shall attempt to sustain it

MRS. PHILIP SCHUYLER. m

with fortitude. I have, I hope, succeeded in a degree ; but
after giving and receiving for nearly half a century a series of
mutual evidences of an affection and a friendship which in-
creased as we advanced in life, the shock was great and sensi-
bly felt to be thus suddenly deprived of a beloved wife, the
mother of my children, and the soothing companion of my
declining years."

SUSAN FENIMORE COOPER.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

CHAPTER I.

IN gathering up the treasures of the last century, some
record has been desired of the life of MRS. SARAH ALDEN
RIPLEY, of Massachusetts.

Mrs. Ripley was known and revered in the region where
she lived, as one who combined rare and living knowledge of
literature and science with the household skill and habits of
personal labor needful to New England women of limited
means, and with the tenderest affection and care for the young
brothers and sisters whom her mother's delicate health and
death left to her charge, and for the seven children of her own
marriage who grew up under her eye in the country parson-
age at Waltham. To the ordinary cares of her station were
added those of assisting her husband in the cares of a boys'
boarding-school, both in housekeeping and teaching. These
claims were met with disinterested devotion. And amid all
the activity of her busy life the love and habit of acquiring
knowledge, which was the life of her age as of her ardent
youth, kept even pace.

To a friend has now been committed the trust of making
some selections from Mrs. Ripley's letters written in youth,
in early married life, in the later days when her children had
grown up and rest seemed approaching, and in the last days
at the " Old Manse" in Concord, her husband's paternal in-
heritance, to which they had retired in the spring of 1846, as
a paradise of rest in age. The letters thus arrange themselves
in four chapters. As a continuous history of events, they
leave many gaps unfilled. At times of domestic changes,

8 113

114 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

whether joyful or sorrowful, the family, never widely scattered,
drew at once together, and there was no need of letters in the
personal presence of filial and friendly sympathy. The friends
also who were dearest to her youth and middle life were all
within a near circle of residence. Thus, as to many of the
most interesting events of her life, no written record from her
hand remains.

No better sketch of Mrs. Ripley can be found than the
memorial written by Mr. R. W. Emerson at the time of her
death. This will be found upon a later page. Their friend-
ship had begun early and lasted long. Mr. Emerson's aunt,
Miss Mary Emerson, the half-sister of Mr. Ripley, was a
woman of genius, who had much influence in the early train-
ing of Mr. Emerson and his brothers. She had heard of the
young Sarah Bradford and sought her out* in the household
retreat in Boston where she devoted to study the time un-
claimed by domestic duties ; and the friendship which followed
included the Emerson childrenf so dear to the elder lady.
After Miss Bradford's marriage the claims of kindred also
brought these boys to their uncle Ripley's house in school
and college vacations, and the intercourse so precious to both
sides was never interrupted but by death.

Mr. F. B. Sanborn, who in Mrs. Ripley's later years at Con-
cord became very valuable to her as a companion in study
and an affectionate minister to her enjoyment in many kind
offices of friendship, wrote at the time of her death about her
early studies thus : " It should be remembered that in the
early part of this century, when Mrs. Ripley laid the founda-
tion of her extensive knowledge of languages, of philosophy
and literature, the aids to study were few and imperfect in

* See Mrs. Ripley's letter to Mr. Simmons of October 7, 1844.

•)• The names of the Emerson children, excepting two who died very young,
were William, Ralph Waldo, Edward Bliss, Peter Bulkeley, and Charles Chauncy.
Edward and Charles died in early manhood ; they were young men of the greatest
promise : their death is commemorated by their brother in his poem entitled
"Dirge." In the " May Day and Other Pieces" is another tribute to the memory
of Edward.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. U5

New England. A good dictionary of Latin or Greek did not
exist in English; editions of the ancient authors were rare and
often very poor, while of the modern languages, except the
French, scarcely anything was known in all this region. But
the difficulties in the way did not prevent Mrs. Ripley from
acquiring rapidly, and with sufficient correctness, a knowledge
of the Latin, Greek, French, and Italian languages, and sub-
sequently the German ; with the literature of all which she
became familiar, and kept up this familiarity till her failing
strength made study, and even reading, irksome."

Wherever it is possible, the editor will avail herself of the
reminiscences of Mrs. Ripley's friends in giving such ex-
planation as is necessary for connecting the different series of
letters with each other. But the letters themselves will best
report the life of the writer.

Sarah Alden Bradford was born in Boston, July 31, 1793,
and was the eldest child of Captain Gamaliel Bradford. Two
brothers followed her, Gamaliel, afterwards a well-known phy-
sician and citizen of Boston, and Daniel, who studied law, and
died early in Mississippi. Then followed two sisters, Martha,
afterwards the wife of Dr. Josiah Bartlett, of Concord, Massa-
chusetts, and Margaret, the wife of Mr. Seth Ames, now one of
the justices of the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts.
George, her youngest brother, whom she almost wholly edu-
cated up to the time when he entered Harvard College, and
Hannah, her youngest sister, who was the wife and is now
the widow of the late Mr. A. H. Fiske, a prominent lawyer
in Boston, completed the number of seven children, to the
three youngest of whom Sarah stood in the place of a mother:
her own children were not nearer to her heart. Her father,
who was a sea-captain, was often absent on voyages, and her
mother's delicate health gave to the eldest daughter, as she
grew up, a large share in the care of this numerous family.
The youngest brother and sister still survive.

Sarah attended a school taught by Mr. Cummings, well
known in days long past as the author of a school geography,
of whom she speaks in one of her latest letters as " my old

Il6 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

school- master, to whom I owe the foundation of all I know
worth speaking of." Her teacher asked her one day if she
would like to study Latin. It was a fortnight before she
could make up her mind to ask her father's leave, but one day
she came home and with great timidity said, " Father, may I
study Latin ?" Her father laughed, and exclaimed, " A girl
study Latin ! Yes, study Latin if you want to. You may
study anything you please." This, as it will be seen, was
opening the door into a wide field.

Captain Bradford's father and other relatives lived in Dux-
bury, near Plymouth. In her occasional visits to this place
Sarah had formed an intimate friendship with Abba Allyn,
the daughter of Dr. Allyn, the minister of Duxbury. He
himself took an especial interest in his daughter's young
friend, to which she never ceased to respond in grateful ac-
knowledgment. The girls read together, and explored the
woods and swamps in company, looking wistfully at the
flowers they gathered, longing for knowledge to detect the
laws and secrets of nature. After one of these visits, Sarah
wrote to her friend Abba a formal little letter proposing a
correspondence. The proposal was accepted, and the first se-
lection from Mrs. Ripley's letters will be a few from the earlier
ones in the life-long series which passed between the two
friends. The first letter, to which I have referred, is duly
dated, "April I5th, 1809." But this is almost the only date
in the whole series: so that the editor can only guess at the
order in which the letters followed each other by the increased
freedom of the style and handwriting, and by the order of
studies and topics, when a new book rises to mark the prog-
ress of the months ; as in Dante's pilgrimage the hours and
seasons are marked only by the succession of the constella-
tions. The correspondence, as I have said, began in 1809.
The Bradford family afterwards spent a year in Duxbury, re-
turning to Boston in 1811. After that time the letters con-
tinued with confidence and affection unabated, and the friend-
ship never ceased through life.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 117

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS ALLYN.

[About 1809.]

" MY DEAR ABBA, —

" I am sorry to perceive that you have greatly mistaken the
motive which has induced me lately to mix less with the world
than heretofore. You ascribe it to depression of mind, for
which you entreat me to assign a reason. You are much de-
ceived, my friend. God has continually blessed me since I came
into this world, and I should be very ungrateful if I were dis-
contented or unhappy. He has given me life, and hereafter I
shall be accountable to him for the manner in which I have
improved the time and privileges afforded me. At present I
am favored with the means of acquiring useful knowledge.
If, instead of employing the season of youth in improving my
mind, I spend it in idle visiting, in preparing for balls and par-
ties, neglecting the advantages afforded me, can I reasonably
expect that they will always be continued to me? I do not
intend to give up all society; I only intend to relinquish that
from which I can gain no good. Be assured I wish to conceal
nothing from you, and if I were in affliction your participa-
tion would greatly lessen it. Write to me the manner in which
you employ your time. Your papa informed me you had be-
come an adept in spinning. Have you begun Virgil ? I must
bid you good-by, my dearest and best friend, and it is my
earnest desire that you may be happy in this world and that
which is to come. Don't expose this letter.

" S. A. B."

"As the spring advances I am more and more desirous to be
with you. The grass in our yard begins to look green, and
the lilac-trees have leaved. We consider our yard and garden
quite a farm in comparison with the yards belonging to the
new-fashioned houses, which are in general about as large as
your back room. So that, although I am not in the country,
I am better off than many of my neighbors. Do you find
any pretty wild flowers? If you have never examined a dan- ,

Il8 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

delion flower, you will find it very curious, — the downy wings
of the seeds, by which they are scattered far and wide, the
perfect uniformity of the little flowers, each with its pistil and
five stamens, united by the anthers, the filaments separate,
almost too small to be distinguished with the naked eye. The
same order, regularity, and beauty are visible in the least as
in the greatest works of creation. Do you think a dandelion
could have been the work of chance? Surely that study can-
not be entirely useless which can make even this most despised
of flowers a source of admiration and entertainment, a demon-
stration of the hand of a Creator. I saw the other evening in
one of our neighbors' yards a Lombardy poplar in full bloom,
a sight I never saw before; but, as my face was swollen with
the ague, I could not get a blossom. I believe they are of
the same class as the balsam poplar, which I have often seen
in bloom. Father has frequently recommended to me a poem
called Darwin's Botanic Garden. I think I can borrow it at
Judge Davis's; and I am determined to bring it to Duxbury
with me, that we may enjoy it together."

In a later letter she says, —

" There are to be botanical lectures next winter in Boston,
but I suppose the pine woods must be our lecture-room, and
nature our herbalist."

In another letter, after analyzing for her friend the Linnaean
System and Darwin's Botanic Garden, her last book, she ends,
" But it is washing-day, and I must run and fold my clothes :
so good-by. . . . The clothes are not quite dry, so here I
come again. I thought at first I would read a little; but when
I get in a notion of writing to you I can attend to nothing
else till the rage is over. I study or read morning and
evening, when not prevented by company. How we might
improve these long winter evenings together!"

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

[1809.]

" Your letter found me in company with one of my Greek
acquaintance; but he was obliged to yield to the superior
claims of friendship. I cannot sufficiently thank you for it,
affectionate and entertaining as it was. The poem* I have
long wished to read, written, by the way, by the biographer df
our favorite Cowper, — our favorite, I say, for I am sure you
cannot have read half through his life and not love him as
well as I do. He is a most engaging character. Perhaps you
may think him a little vain in making his own compositions
so frequently the subjects of his letters, particularly his trans-
lations of Homer. But I can readily find in my own feelings
an excuse for him. How interested I feel in anything you
are engaged in ! How eager I am to know every step you
take in Virgil, etc. ! So anxious for the success and fame
of her friend was Lady Hesketh that he well knew the most
minute details would be interesting to her. ... A dreadful
apprehension of having forfeited the divine favor by his im-
perfections (when perhaps there was never a man who had
less reason for such a fear) seems to have been the occasion
of that melancholy which shaded the whole course of his
life and especially obscured the end, which so strongly
awakens the feeling of sympathy. Do you not relish much
more his pleasing descriptions since you know ' his praise of
nature most sincere, raptures not conjured up to serve the
purpose of poetic pomp, but genuine' ? I am delighted to
hear you do not desert our old friend Virgil. You need not
fear I shall be jealous of any share he may have in your
friendship. I have not read anything new since I wrote
you, but jog on in the same old road. I have finished Homer's
Odyssey, and wish to read the Iliad very much. Your papa
has one with a Latin translation, and, if he does not use it this
winter, by lending it to me he will add another great obliga-
tion to the many he has conferred upon me. You mentioned
in one of your last letters an abundance of new story-books,

* Hayley's " Triumphs of Temper."

120 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

such as ' Vivian,' etc. I hope Daniel will read some of them
to me this long vacation, that I may be able in company to
bear some part in the conversation, for they are the only fash-
ionable topics. Dear Abba, since I wrote you I have com-
menced acquaintance with a Miss Emerson,* a sister of our
minister, a pious and sensible woman, between thirty and
forty years of age. She was so kind as to make the first ad-
vances by calling on me ; and from her society I expect to
derive the greatest advantages : she appears extremely inter-
ested in the religious improvement of the young. When I
consider what a price there is put in my hands to gain wisdom,
I am alarmed at the little progress I have made in a knowl-
edge of the things that concern my eternal peace. Good-night

" Your friend, SARAH."

The following was marked by Miss Emerson, " First letter
of her childhood in friendship."

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS EMERSON.

[About 1809.]

" DEAR, DEAR MARY, —

"I am afraid you will hear no more about satiety and disgust
of life. With every rising dawn your idea is associated. The
day no longer presents in prospect an unvaried tasteless round
of domestic duties. Bright gleams of hope illumine the dull
perspective. The mellow rays of the declining sun sweep the
chords of love. Oh that they ceased to vibrate with the
gentle touch ! Your idea intrudes too often on the hallowed
hours. But it will not be always thus. The affection whose
object is so pure, so heavenly, cannot, will not, forever militate
with devotion. Once convinced the chains are riveted, suspi-
cion, dread to have disgusted or offended, will give place to
calm reposing satisfaction. How delightful the thought that

* See Mrs. Ripley's letter to Mr. Simmons of October 7, 1844, for an account
of Miss Emerson and of the beginning of their acquaintance.

MRS. SAMUEL R1PLEY. 121

our religion sanctions friendship ! How does worldliness dry
up every spring of pure affection, chill every generous, glow-
ing emotion ! I was bantered a little at tea about violent
romantic attachments. I was bold in the defense of disinter-
ested friendship. My mother considers it a delusion, innocent
as to its object, rather dangerous as to its effects, making me
unsteady, as she terms it. But you told me once you hated
sentimental epistles. May everything that can make life's
journey pleasant be yours in perfection !"

" I was peaceably poring over old Josephus when your affec-
tionate letter came. Its seal was broken with delightful agi-
tation. Poor Josephus ! I am afraid he will be obliged to
suspend for to-day the tedious narrative of his countrymen's
seditions. My interest in him increases as he draws near
the illustrious era beheld in prophetic vision, ushered in with
seraphic song. . . . The Roman annals of this period have
for me an amazing interest. I have them from the hand of a
master. I am eagerly looking on every page for some mention
of characters enshrined on the altar of Christianity. . . . My
affection for you has given a new tone to my feelings and
animation to my pursuits. ... I want you to become better
acquainted with my old friend Lactantius. He lived to a
great age, and had the satisfaction of seeing the clouds that
had so long lowered over the Christian world begin to break
away. It was the last burst of the tempest of persecution
that provoked his elegant defense. His style is very clear,
and his standard of morality high as perfection itself. He has
some faults, is often fanciful in his interpretation of Scripture
language, and sometimes shows great want of candor in in-
terpreting the moral precepts of heathen philosophy. He
seems to have fallen into an error natural to the early age of
the Church, — considers poverty and persecution necessary to
Christian virtue. Is it an error ? Do not many graces imply
a state of suffering?"

122 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.
MISS BRADFORD TO MISS ALLYN.

" Miss Emerson has left Boston for an uncertain time. You
know how I dislike writing; yet I have already written to her.
It was the condition on which I am to expect her letters; and
if they are of as much benefit to me as I hope her society has
been, I shall be abundantly compensated. Do not be jealous
of her, my best friend. My affection for you and her are very
different: there is too much of reverential respect mingled
with the former to admit of that unreserved confidence which
is so strong a bond of union between us. Can an acquaint-
ance of a few months, where there is disparity of years and
difference in pursuits, be weighed in the balance with a friend-
ship of years, cemented by union in studies as well as senti-
ment?"

Her friend indorses the following letter, " This letter writ-
ten when she was seventeen."

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS EMERSON.

[1810.]

"DEAR MARY, —

"I have begun Stewart. (Oh, how you have multiplied my
sources of enjoyment!) By bringing into view the various sys-
tems of philosophers concerning the origin of our knowledge,
he enlarges the mind, and extends the range of our ideas, while
he traces to their source those torrents of error, skepticism,
and infidelity that have for ages inundated this fair field of
science ; clearly distinguishing between proper objects of in-
quiry and those that must forever remain inexplicable to man
in the present state of his faculties. Reasonings from induc-
tion are delightful. I have read but few works on these sub-
jects. Oh, how I envy the scholar, the philosopher, whose
business, whose profession, is science! Continually making
new discoveries in this boundless region, where every object
bears the impress of Divinity, Linnseus could trace with equal
wonder and delight the strokes of a divine, unrivaled pencil,
as Newton the omnipotent arm that first gave motion to the

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

123

planetary system. Even the humble dandelion exhibits an
order and regularity of parts admirable as the harmony of
spheres. Yet, as much as I am pleased with your philosoph-
ical speculations, I should not be willing to renounce for them
entirely the poets of Greece and Rome. Opening Virgil the
other night after I was in bed, his fine description of ^neas's
descent into the lower regions held imagination entranced
for hours. The sombre and terrific images that throng the
gloomy portal, the turbid, sedgy stream, the supplications of
unburied shades that hover around its banks, thick as au-
tumnal leaves, the grim boatman, the converse of vEneas with
the spirits of departed heroes, the expressive look and manner
of his injured mistress, described in all the majesty of Virgil's
style, wonderfully entertain the fancy. In pathos of sentiment
he is unrivaled : he is acquainted with every avenue to the
heart. His epic abounds with the most affecting pictures of
filial love and heroic friendship. I have almost a mind to blot
this long eulogium. I am continually introducing you to one
or another of my old friends, that you do not care a fig for,
who meet with so much more agreeable society of your own
age. I am afraid you will never be rid of their intrusions till
you absolutely command them to stay at home. Do call me
a good girl for writing again so soon. Good-by.

" Yours with affection, SARAH."

"DEAR MARY, —

" I have just received your valuable letter, and would answer
it while warm with gratitude for the affectionate interest it ex-
presses in my welfare. Your caution against an undue devo-
tion to literary pursuits is, I fear, too necessary. Perhaps not
more time is allotted to them than conscience would permit
for innocent amusements. But their dominion over the affec-
tions is the danger. I fear, if called to relinquish them en-
tirely or desert some positive duty, the sacrifice would be
made with reluctance. Yet, when I experience how much
more easy is the transition to serious meditation from an
evening spent in study than one spent in society, where vanity

124

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

may have been excited or pride flattered, I am inclined to
consider them, if not directly tending to produce, at least not
unfavorable to, piety. How ready we are to excuse a favorite
passion !' It is my constant prayer that my affections may be
purified, and with advantages for improvement my sphere of
usefulness may also be enlarged. My friend, I should not
write thus to any one but yourself. I am almost ashamed
when I see that I have as yet been the only subject. Do tell
me if you think me vain or presuming.

"... You are the only person who ever thought me of
any consequence, and I am pretty well convinced other folks
are more than half right. I want you to love me, but you
must do as you please about it."

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS ALLYN.

" I have been so busily engaged since mother has been at
Duxbury in mending old clothes and making cambric bonnets,
that I have not had time to read, write, nor scarcely think,
except about my work. What will you say, — that I have im-
proved or degenerated, if I tell you I have spent almost a fort-
night in making two bonnets ? I am afraid if you knew how
much anxiety and fretting they have occasioned, you would
be at no loss in pronouncing judgment. Be that as it may, I
have acquired the fame of being quite a tasteful milliner, and,
if you regard the time and pains bestowed, I think there was
never any fame of the kind more justly earned."

" You don't want to know what I am doing, but I will tell
you to plague you. I study now and then a little Latin. In
the daytime while I sit at work Daniel reads some entertain-
ing book to me, and in the evening when there is no com-
pany I usually study a chapter in the Greek Testament. I dare
not tell you how much of my time I spend in playing with
Hannah, who grows a fine little girl : you don't know how
much we all love her. Do write to me soon and send me

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 125

a translation of some part of the ^Eneid, written handsomely
on a neat piece of paper. Have you begun the History of
Rome? Remark particularly the events happening about
Cicero's time. It is my favorite history. I expect it will afford
us a fund of conversation when we meet again.

" Dear Abba, we go through the same routine of business
here, — wash Monday, iron Tuesday, etc. The description of
one week would serve for all the rest in the year; no variety,
except of books, of which (as is usually the case in vacation)
we have abundance. Daniel comes home loaded with new
ones, French and English. Among the former I find Vol-
taire's Age of Louis XIV., valuable both from the style in
which it is written and the important events it relates. What
would you say if I were to tell you I have begun five different
books at once ? I am afraid the little leisure I have, divided
among so many objects, will not be very profitably employed.
I am reading Juvenal, a Roman satirist, who is charming when
he lashes those follies that are common among mankind in
every age ; but when he attacks those grosser ones of his own
which are now 'not so much as named among us' he is often
so indelicate that I am obliged to pass over a great deal. No
one can read the Satires of Juvenal, or St. Paul's picture of
his age in the first chapter of Romans, and not perceive how
greatly Christianity has refined the tone of morality, though
much of her genuine influence be diminished by the bad pas-
sions of men.

" I have undertaken to instruct the little ones this winter,
and « now begin to realize what has been your task for a year
or two past. They hate the Latin grammar, but in geography
we go on more smoothly : they are pleased to trace countries,
rivers, etc., on the map, and George's eyes will sparkle when
he hears any place mentioned in conversation whose situation
he is acquainted with. To grammar they attach no kind of
idea, and I cannot conceive that its study can be useful in any
other way than forming a habit of attention. I have been
reading to-day part of a charming satire where Juvenal paints
glaringly the mistakes of men in their search after happiness.

126 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

The book lies before me, with the leaf turned down : I long to
read it to you, it is so natural. Where do you think I am
writing to you ? In my own chamber, which, by the means of
a little shoemaker's stove* fixed here this afternoon, is as warm
as an oven. Some sweet ingredient is each day mingled in
my cup. For all these blessings I cannot be grateful enough
to kind friends, and to Him who has given me these friends.
Good-night, says one who loves you dearly.

"SARAH BRADFORD."

" I have not read much this vacation, though French books
have abounded, for I spent most of my leisure with Theocritus,
an old Grecian, the father of pastoral poetry. I like many of
his Idyllia better than Virgil's Bucolica. He is much more
natural, and to him Virgil is indebted for many of his most
beautiful ideas. There is so much of nature in the Idyllium
I am now studying, a dialogue between two women on their
way to some public show, that I long to recite it to you, as I
do a thousand other things I meet with in the day."

" The comet is running off very fast; I shall be sorry to bid
him good-by forever. I seldom go to bed without looking
to see if the old serpent's head is still above the horizon."

" I am very much interested in Tacitus at present He has
a manner so pleasant of telling his stories, he is as interesting
as a novelist. I am impatient for the time when you shall
read him. I am sometimes almost tempted to wish I knew
nothing about Latin, and had not a taste for studies that sub-
ject me to so many inconveniences ; for the time I now employ

* A friend in Boston writes, " I find by inquiry among the old stove-makers
that a ' shoemaker's stove' was well known as a cylinder of sheet iron laid hori-
zontally, flattened on the upper side, with a door at one end and a funnel at the
other."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. I27

N

in study I should then spend in reading books which would
enable me to join in the conversation and partake of the pleas-
ures of fashionable ladies, but now I am as careful to conceal
my books and as much afraid of being detected with them as
if I were committing some great crime."

So this fair, fragrant lily grew up in the grass of common
daily life, pure, peaceable, wise, lovely, of good report: "if
there be any virtue, and if there be any praise," she was not
found wanting. No desire to evade the lowliest household
task which duty or affection laid upon her ever shows itself
in her letters. And the same lowly, sincere acceptance of the
daily order of Providence in life remains characteristic to the
last.

The War of 1812-14, an^ other causes, brought such in-
terruptions to her father's occupations — which were still con-
nected with commerce, although he had left the sea about
the year 1808 — that it became expedient for him, in 1813, to
accept the office of Warden of the State Prison in Charles-
town. After some time he removed his family from Boston
to that town. But Sarah's intimacy with Miss Emerson and
her young nephews was not broken by this new necessity of
crossing a bridge. Their communication by letters, as will
have been seen, had begun early, and it was still continued
whenever the friends were separated.

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS EMERSON.
" DEAR FRIEND, —

"I spent last night with your little darling.* We vied with
each other in telling stories: the little budget of learning and
fancy was all emptied, nor were its contents so inconsiderable
as the aunt would sometimes represent them. — I have before
me a rare banquet of reason and taste, if I had but leisure to
enjoy it, — Butler, Tasso, Sophocles, and Euripides. You will

* It is not known which of the nephews is here referred to.

128 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

enjoy Butler's Analogy with me. I believe I told you I have
Milton's minor poems. With what majesty and sublimity his
old-fashioned epithets grace his style! They remind one of
the rich brocades and substantial ornaments of our grand-
mothers, contrasted with the gauze and ribbons of modern
bards. In the second book of Paradise Lost, Satan's journey
through the realms of Chaos and old Night, — one knows not
which most to admire, the sublimity of his thoughts, or their
expressive garb' of diction :

' Who shall tempt with wandering feet
The dark, unbottomed, infinite abyss,
And through the palpable obscure find out
His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight,
Upborne with indefatigable wings,
Over the vast abrupt.'

" Every word is an idea, and an idea it seems no other word
could so forcibly express. How could Johnson talk about
blank verse being unfit for English epic? Your friend E. says
he has colored our theology. No wonder! Poets were the
mythologists of ancient days. Inspiration was attributed as
their peculiar gift, and, in their language, for poet and prophet
one word sufficed.

"Why can't you be disinterested enough, after you have
inhaled the fragrance of autumnal wild flowers, to press some
of them for me ? Taylor's Holy Dying will be just the book
to entomb withering beauty. The modes of decease, too, in
the vegetable world are not destitute of variety: the green
brier which taints the gale while it lives, and loses when dry
its offensive odor, may comment on 'the wicked cease from
troubling;' the fragrance of the faded rose is a good name
left behind; and the pappous tribe go off on gossamer wings
of immortality. Do write, whether consistent or inconsistent
with your pursuits: in the latter case I make the appeal to
benevolence.

" Yours most affectionately, SARAH."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

129

Among the letters to Miss Emerson I find one addressed
to Ralph Waldo Emerson, then eleven years old, — beginning
with a translation from Virgil, which she challenges him to
finish :

MISS BRADFORD TO RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

1814.
" MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND,

***********

' "You love to trifle in rhyme a little now and then : why will
you not continue this versification of the fifth bucolic? You
will answer two ends, or, as the old proverb goes, kill two
birds with one stone, — improve in your Latin, as well as in-
dulge a taste for poetry. Why can't you write me a letter in
Latin ? But Greek is your favorite language : epistola in
lingua Grczcd would be still better. All the honor will be on
my part, to correspond with a young gentleman in Greek.
Only think of how much importance I shall feel in the literary
world. Tell me what most interests you in Rollin ; in the
wars of contending princes, under whose banner you enlist,
to whose cause you ardently wish success. Write me with
what stories in Virgil you are most delighted : is not that
a charming one of the friendship of Nisus and Euryalus ? I
suppose you have a Euryalus among your companions ; or
don't little boys love each other as well as they did in Virgil's
time ? How beautifully he describes the morning ! Do write
to your affectionate friend, SARAH."

Thus adjured, her young friend returns in answer a ful-
fillment of the task assigned him, in a translation of the fifth
bucolic from the nineteenth to the thirty-fifth line :

May 6, 1814.

" Mop. Turn now, O youth, from your long speech away ;
The bower we've reached recluse from sunny ray;
The Nymphs with pomp have mourned for Daphnis dead ;
The hazels witnessed, and the rivers fled.
The wretched mother clasped her lifeless child,
And gods and stars invoked with accents wild.
Daphnis ! the cows are not now led to streams
Where the bright sun upon the water gleams,
9

130 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Neither do herds the cooling river drink,

Nor crop the grass upon the verdant brink.

O Daphnis ! both the mountains and the woods,

The Punic lions, and the raging floods,

All mourn for thee, for thee who first did hold

In chariot-reins the spotted tiger bold.

Daphnis the Bacchanalian chorus led,

He placed himself at the mad dancers' head.

'Twas Daphnis who with beauteous fingers wove

The stems of leaves he gathered from the grove.

As the great beauty of a tree is seen

From vines entwining rpund its pleasant green,

As vines themselves in grapes their beauty find,

As the fair bull of all the lowing kind,

As standing corn doth grace the verdant fields,

So to thy beauty every rival yields."

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS EMERSON.

" CHARLESTOWX, Nov. gth, 1814.
" DEAR FRIEND, —

" You will have me write — what ? the interesting detail of
mending, sweeping, teaching? What amusement can you
reasonably require at the hand of a being secluded in a back
chamber, with a basket of stockings on one side, and an^old
musty heathen on the other ? Musty! reiterates father Homer,
frowning through his gilt cover. . . . Well, dear Mary, if
you will have aught of me this evening, you must be content
to pass it with Ariosto or Tasso, for we are inseparable. . . .
Ariosto gives free rein to an imagination luxuriant, wild,
brilliant as his own enchanted domes with airy touch that
fancy fires; Tasso's genius chastised by correctness of taste
appears in picturesque description, accurate delineation of
character, various and entertaining incident. Novelty bestows
their charm on visions of unrestrained fancy, but nature
pleases always. The gondoliers of Venice, their oars beat-
ing time, are heard nightly chanting Tasso's stanzas, — rarely
Ariosto's. The poet of nature is a practical metaphysician,
acquainted as it were by inspiration with those combinations
of passions and affections common to our race, that form all

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. !3!

the varieties of individual character, — skilled to touch those
delicate strings of sentiment that find concordant notes in
every soul. Our age, I believe, consents to place the English
epic poet in the niche with Homer; Tasso dares not aspire so
high, yet (though never in sublimity) in beauty of description
he might dispute the palm with Milton ; and even this tower-
ing genius sometimes condescends to borrow a fine simile
from his Italian predecessor.

" I dispatched a letter by post this morning : this is for a
private conveyance; George stands waiting with his Homer;
Betsey teasing to know how the meat is to be dissected ; the
wind blowing books and papers in every direction ; but ca-
coethes scribendi, — I keep on. ' Write, if consistent with your
pursuits.' You will be obliged, when tired of paying postage
and breaking seals, to explain yourself in more direct terms."

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS ALLYN.

" CHARLESTOWN, April igth, 1815.
"DEAR ABBA, —

" I had hoped our next communication would have been
oral, but, as the Fates do not seem disposed to extend my
thread to Duxbury, I come again in the form of epistle. . . .
How is it with Greek, Latin, and French? Have you con-
quered Sallust? and do you meditate an attack on Horace next?
If this is your intention, you may prepare for a tight conflict,
for it is something more than play, even after Tacitus has nerved
the arm and exercised the skill. This last waits your command.
Your friend is listening again to the Doric muse of Theocritus,
and anticipating the period when we shall enjoy her harmony
in company. Virgil is happier than Thomson in the picturesque
of poetry: the dazzling splendor of the latter blends his ima-
gery in indistinct confusion, while Virgil's expressive diction
throws a soft shade about his

'jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant
Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae,'

132 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

and marks each object with distinctness. Theocritus excels
them both in this master-art of description. Vivid conception
of the grand and beautiful in nature, and a talent of discrimi-
nating selection, are the gifts of the poetic imagination. Who
cannot measure a verse and conclude it with the jingle of
rhyme ? but to see with a poet's eye and color with a poet's
pencil — hie labor est /"

" March igth.

" MY DEAR FRIEND, —

"We have been turning over the leaves of a German gram-
mar for the last week ; have the promise of books, but can
procure no dictionary; transition rather harsh from Italian, in
which every word ends with a vowel, to consonant upon con-
sonant in schramme and geschwult. One meets in limine primo
with many words like the English, which is accounted for by
the Teutonic derivation of both. Mme. de Stael says that it,
the German, resembles the Greek language in its construction;
which is certainly observable in the number of its declensions
and the variations of its articles. Perhaps the similarity of
structure may be accounted for by peculiar circumstances in
the early state and progress of the two nations. Homer pre-
sents us with a picture of the primeval polity and manners of
his country, numerous independent tribes, each electing its
own chief, dignified in heroics with the royal title, frequently
embroiled in petty contests with each other, all uniting for
the purpose of public defense or retaliation. In this state
they continue to make progress in arts and civilization, un-
conquered by any foreign power, till the memorable invasion
of the Persians serves but to exercise their military talents and
confirm the national spirit of freedom. Tacitus gives nearly
the same account of the manners of ancient Germany, which,
however, is but a general description of the early history of
every nation, the natural or rather the simple form of govern-
ment founded on the universally acknowledged right of pa-
rental authority. Germany seems neither to have been civil-

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

133

ized nor corrupted by its intercourse with the Roman soldiery;
the regular construction of its language and the gradual re-
finement of its manners to have been its own work, — like those
of Greece, the natural progress of society. . . . Perhaps I shall
tell you when I know more of the crooked letters the analogy
between the two languages is as imaginary as the attempt to
account for it is fanciful. And now we come to the matter in
hand, to thank you for your entertaining letter, to entreat you
not to sit up too late nor rise too early, not to wet your feet
or fatigue yourself through too violent exercise; in short, to
take care of your health. I suppose by this time the epigcza
repens begins to peep through the withered leaves. Do press
me a bunch, as I have never examined it particularly.

" Wedn. week. — A German dictionary ! We begin to think
our own language has the best claim to relationship to the
German : the verb is commonly the concluding word in the
sentence, which will make it fine for poetry. You do not tell
me where to find you in Greek. You will probably begin the
Iliad after ' Minora.' I long to hear what you think of the
venerable (Samian or Chian) bard. Has not Tacitus yet de-
scribed anything worthy of a mark ? In May I am to see
your mother and yourself. Do not disappoint

" S. A. B."

" There is indeed a striking analogy between the German
and Greek in the number of compounded words: abstract and
general terms are composed of words expressing the simple
ideas included, and thus explain themselves without definition.
From this peculiarity the Greek has become the source from
which every modern science has drawn its nomenclature; and
indeed it must be a marked feature in every idiom which,
without being indebted to foreign or ancient languages, has
grown out of the necessities and improved with the taste and
science of the age. We are now laboring at one of Klop-
stock's dramas, the subject of which is the famous destruction
by the Cherusci of Varro's three legions, whose remains were
afterward found in the sacred forests of the Germans by Ger-

134

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

manicus's army, — which Tacitus finely describes, I think, in
his first book. . . . My mother is very sick to-day, and I have
cake in the oven to take care of: so good-by. — Saturday. —
George has been reciting from one of Sallust's prefaces.
What a philosopher he would fain be ! he has moralized us all
to sleep. His motto, 'Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus} and
his inference, of course, that it is better to be an historian than
a consul. He traces with a masterly hand the causes of great
revolutions and events to the secret passions of the human
heart. He can draw a striking portrait — witness Jugurtha's ;
but how insufferably affected in style !"

TO MISS ALLYN.

" Do you read the Greek Testament ? It will take many a
rainy Sunday to exhaust the new ideas one may acquire by
divesting one's self of the prejudices of education and the
peculiar sanctity distant and superstitious time has thrown
around the epistolary parts of these records of our faith ; with
a distinct idea of the character of their author to place our-
selves at Corinth, Athens, or Jerusalem, as they really existed
in the time of the apostle, — not as seen with the glass of faith
through the long postern of eighteen centuries; to find full of
interesting meaning, passages which appear obscure, extrava-
gant, or contradictory to those who receive every epistle as
applicable in toto to the Church at the present day."

The " having picked up Lowth's Isaiah" is the occasion of
a lively statement of " the general identification of poet and
prophet among ancient nations. It was natural," she adds,
" to ascribe to supernatural influence the utterance of genius
which untaught by man soared far above the common level,
and the solitary taste of the bard for nature in her sublime
and awful attitudes might have strengthened the persuasion.

Zeu? <5e OsaJv a-foprp xoiijffaTO
axpordrrj xopotpy

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

135

". . . What of all this ? I was going to add, I know not
what, about divine truth coming with superior authority from
lips already, without the evidence of miracles, believed to be
touched with celestial fire."

" Brilliant imagination is all Ariosto has to boast, but so
wild and extravagant as rather to astonish and entertain than
to interest the feelings. Sympathy seldom goes beyond the
bounds of nature."

" We are expecting you daily. When you come you shall
be treated to a peep at Herodotus in green and gold : ' dulcis
et fusus et candidus Herodotus! Margaret is waiting to say
her lesson. Do make haste, — May is almost past."

" I have found a French work on chemistry and natural his-
tory in five volumes, quite elementary, perfectly intelligible,
and am up to the mind's elbows in carbon."

After comparing the style of Cicero with that of Tacitus, she
says, —

" A nation's taste as well as literature has its rise and de-
cline. It seems to be the fate of humanity that, arrived at the
height of eminence in any attainment, it must begin to descend
again ere it has time to view the goodly prospect. Happily,
the heights of natural science are ' Alps on Alps.' "

" MY DEAR FRIEND, —

" You have become Tacitus ad unguent. Excuse me if
once and again I break in on your retirement, disturb your
reverie, or add a provoking third to your society. What a
striking feature in the delineation of Tiberius's character are
those ambiguous letters to the Senate, — the arbitrary tyrant

136 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

under the specious garb of deference to pristine manners !
Gothic ignorance, or Father Time's more barbarous hand, has
provokingly made bonne prise of some dozen pages in the
latter part of this Emperor's history : this gap is admirably
supplied by Juvenal's tenth satire.

" By the way, I have a new Delphini edition of Juvenal,
with notes explanatory to every sentence ; at your service, of
course. It will be hard labor, but in a diamond mine. The
originality of his ideas will surprise and the fine strokes of
nature will delight you. The poet of genius who can distin-
guish between artificial manners modified by local and occa-
sional circumstances, and those genuine springs of feeling and
principles of action which mark man's fraternity to man, writes
for every age, — raises a monument to his fame 'perenniiis cere!
Novelty and a splendid imagination may throw a momentary
halo around forms unnatural and extravagant ; but the emo-
tion of surprise is transient, and it can never boast the charm
of sympathy. Nature speaks to every heart ; we view the
pictures of antiquity which her pencil traces, with the traveler's
delight who recognizes well-known features in a distant land:
they please if common ; but if genius animate them, what is
the emotion !

" Your Greek was grateful as a milestone on a long journey
to mark the distance gone ; as to its critical merit, you are as
well qualified to judge as your humble servant, who blesses
her stars if she can by dint of digging arrive at the ideas with-
out pretending to analyze the soil which covers them. Gam
just enters, and calls for toast and coffee: so good-night. . . .
Do you know it is almost three months since you have en-
tered into the detail of books and business ? If Procyon, who
keeps a steady eye upon you, were but a looking-glass to re-
veal your secret doings ! Do note him peeping in at your
eastern window every evening between seven and eight.
Daniel has attacked Thucydides and Juvenal ; Martha, Italian ;
I distill and calcine with Fourcroi, smile with Voltaire at the
superstitious follies of barbarous times, and now and then
break Morpheus's head with an Italian drama, viz., Goldoni's,

AfKS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 137

which has not much to boast as to plot or incident, and is
nevertheless entertaining from the nature ease, and humor of
the dialogue.

"Always obliged, dear Abba, by your affectionate sympathy.
I am so happy as to be able to tell you that Gam is on the
recovery, has a good appetite, and appears to be free from any
symptoms of disease. He is, however, extremely weak, and
unable to sit up more than five minutes at a time. ... I have
had a dainty morsel in ' Eichhorn on the Apocalypse :' he
considers the book as a drama, imagines a plot, lays the action
in heaven, and adorns and illustrates the scenes with treasures
of ingenuity and curious learning. But the hour of twilight
in a dark chamber, where the only glimmerings are those that
peep through certain longitudinal crevices in the window-
shutters, is neither the most convenient nor inspiring for epis-
tolizing, whatever it may be for friendly chat. No doubt you
are as poetically sentimental as 'rocking winds' and ' heaven's
pure expanse' can make you ; while I am content if one vagrant
ray of Phoebus makes its way by noon through my key-hole.
In short, I have not been out of doors since the 1st November ;
but of this no complaint, while I converse ideally — that is, not
in fancy, but in black and white — with worthies both dead and
living; above all, since anxious suspense and distressing appre-
hension have been dispelled by returning hope."

MISS BRADFORD TO MISS EMERSON.

1816.

" MY DEAR FRIEND, —

" Charles's understanding and manners do his instructress
much credit, but sincerely I fear the dear little boy must yet
through much tribulation become initiated into the mysteries
of hie, hcec, hoc. He has not yet formed a habit of application,
if I can judge from this morning's lesson. The labor of turning
over his dictionary wearied him ; and, as he came for a visit of

138 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

pleasure, I had not the heart to tease him. Nothing but the
responsibility of an interested instructor or the anxiety of a
parent can reconcile one to the tedious labor of thoroughly
perfecting a child in all the minutiae of a language without
the aid of emulation or fear, the moving springs of a public
school. To the last you would be unwilling to expose a
darling so early as seven; but I really think that unless
Charles's time could be profitably occupied at home with the
elements of some natural science, to inspire a taste for which
would again require much time and affectionate assiduity, he
ought to go to school. We will together make one more
desperate effort for a good private one, if your ladyship shall
see fit to attend to my remonstrances. Poor little fellow, he
is looking at pictures beside me, little imagining I am plotting
against his peace ; but so it is — the bitter root must be tasted
before the sweet fruits of learning can be obtained. He has
behaved perfectly well, and is quite contented; but I have let
the children play nearly all day.

" Yours, SARAH."

" I shall bring this myself, but I had rather write, than talk,
with the air of a counsellor."

"Your present shall purchase a Pindar,* not a pin-cushion.
I have long wanted him to fill a niche on my shelf of classics,
but not as a token to remember a friend who has had more
power and influence over me than any other being who ever
trod this earth or breathed this vital air. You have sometimes
been so unjust as to impute it to pride that I have so seldom
protested how much I loved you, while the true cause was
the incredulous smile with which the expressions of affection
were repulsed."

* This " Pindar" — a small Oxford edition of l8o8,with the inscription " Sarah
A. Bradford from her friend M. Emerson" — is still in the possession of Mrs.
Ripley's family. She was fond of telling an amusing story of her search for it.
"Pindar?" the booksellers would say, one after another; "Pindar? you mean
Peter Pindar, I suppose?"

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

139

"DEAR MARY, —

" The severity of your remarks drew a few tears and shed
a temporary gloom over meditation. But you will accuse
me of pride again when I tell you an emotion succeeded
somewhat like resignation for the loss of earthly friendship
at the recollection of being amenable alone to a higher tri-
bunal,— though just and holy yet infinitely merciful, where an
unguarded expression will not condemn. Have I led you to
believe I consider myself faultless ? I am daily conscious of
much offense in thought, word, and deed, but I have not
thought it necessary to pain or disgust you by the recital of
defects. I live only on the hope of amending. Dearest friend,
remember that language of reproof much less harsh would
find its way to the heart and conscience of your affectionate

" SARAH A. B."

"June I2th, 1817.

" My DEAR MARY, —

" I am on the eve of engaging myself to your brother. Your
family have probably no idea what trouble they may be en-
tailing on themselves. I make no promises of good behavior,
but, knowing my tastes and habits, they must take the con-
sequences upon themselves. You will be amused if a long
epistle should reach you, written a week since and lost in the
street on its way to Boston. Said letter contained an answer
to your question, and, as the chance is that it will be put in
the office, I will not trouble you with a duplicate.
" Yours most affectionately,

" SARAH."

140 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

CHAPTER II.

IN 1818 Miss Bradford was married to the Rev. Samuel
Ripley, and for the next twenty-eight years her home was in
the parsonage at Waltham. In coming there she entered at
once into the labors of a house where fourteen boys were kept
at a boarding-school, and these labors continued during all
her life there : she was the sole matron of the establishment.
Here all her children were born and all but the two youngest
grew up ; and here one daughter was married.

The first letters in my possession from her Waltham home
are addressed to her brother Daniel, who had gone to seek
his fortune in Kentucky. They begin in 1819, when her
eldest daughter was a few weeks old, and come to an end in
1821. They abound, of course, in details of neighborhood
and family affairs; but, like "the orange tree, that busy
plant," even the leaves share the aroma of the flower and fruit,
and the tree is never without blossoms, — if in this ripening
season they must needs be fewer.

MRS. RIPLEY TO DANIEL BRADFORD.

[1819.]

" DEAR BROTHER, —

" The greatest difficulty in an undertaking is surmounted
when you have begun, for then the desire to finish, which
Lord Kames, who is over-fond of multiplying original prin-
ciples, makes one of our nature, comes in to aid other reasons
for doing the business. So I always put another letter on the
stocks when I have finished and folded one.

" Waltham, Oct. 6th, 1819. — The baby daily receives addi-
tions to her wardrobe, with notes which require all one's in-
genuity for variety to answer. Miss L. is making an India
muslin dress trimmed with lace, which she intended for its
christening dress; but I prefer its making its debut before the
parish in plain cambric. We decided the matter amicably,

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

141

however, by putting it on the score of pride. The baby is
crying for me. Good-evening."

After much lively social comment, she continues, "Nov. 13.
— I have just finished Electra ; the last scene, the murder of
Clytemnestra, is very great. The Greek dramatists were in
the right to have this business out of sight. Clytemnestra's
voice in broken sentences adds much to the horror of the
scene. Her body is brought out covered, and ^Egisthus thinks
it is Orestes till he lifts the veil and discovers. Do you recol-
lect Electra's lamentation when she receives the news of the
death of Orestes? I think this is the best of Sophocles' plays
that I have read yet. The first part of Antigone is fine, but it
grows stupid toward the last. ^Emon proses. The chorus is
fine.

"Abba is still with us; we enjoy ourselves right well. We
have been going over the old ground of the ideal and common-
sense philosophy. We quarrel with Stewart's labored periods
and critical, desultory style, and think him indebted to Reid
for ideas not a few.

"On Thursday the baby made her debut in the city; was
visited and complimented by all her relations ; we left her in
state at Aunt Polly's, dressed in Miss Lowell's cap and Ann
Dunkin's robe, and set out ourselves on the very interesting
business of doing up our calls for the winter. . . .

"When facts drop from my pen like so many peas from a
pod, I console myself by calling to mind a remark of Gam's,
that George's epistolary list of insulated events was the most
entertaining communication he received during his absence."

"Jan. I7th, 1820, u P.M.

" Walker* came up on Saturday and stayed till this morn-
ing, being Monday. He gave us two masterly discourses ; he
is a powerful man, a metaphysician ; studies mankind in books

* Rev. James Walker, of Charlestown, afterwards President of Harvard
College.

I42 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of general philosophy, and by the application of general prin-
ciples to the multitude of facts which present themselves from
observation and experiment. You will smile at me for talk-
ing about James Walker in this style, but he really does grow
astonishingly. Did you ever read any of Hartley's works ?
He is the first man I ever talked with who regarded Hartley
as the prince of metaphysicians.

"The fear that our communication, which has been one of
the pleasantest circumstances in my life, might be drawing to
a close, has induced me to commence with such zeal the busi-
ness of epistle-making. I'm afraid you will laugh at me for
being sentimental ; but the doctor* has been singing the
' Ruins,' and I have wanted to-day to show you some passages
in Ajax."

"March 3ist, 1820.

"We have just obtained Ivanhoe; happier he who writes
than he who dares, enunciate the Saxon's name, which, like
Giaour and Goethe of old, sticks between one's teeth till one
is assured how the present company are minded.

" I suppose you have devoured Ivanhoe ere this. What
variety of horrors in Front-de-Bceuf s castle, from Isaac in the
dungeon to Ulrica on the flaming battlement! Front-de-
Boeuf's death is masterly; the union of heroism in humility
in Rebecca's character is admirable : Ivanhoe kills his giant,
and that is all ; the scene in the hermitage of the clerk of
Copmanhurst is one of the most amusing. The bean-monde
are loudest in their admiration of the tournament ; but that
as well as various encounters in the book are no novelties to
those who have read Ariosto."

"June, 1820.

" We are busily engaged in preparing for commencement.
One poor wight is studying for dear life, and trembling in his
shoes, looking forward to the day that shall fix his destiny for
four years or five; while if your old friend S. should fail, it

* Dr. Samuel L. Dana.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

143

will not be from any distrust in his own qualifications. The
two boys are the very antipodes to each other: one, in his
efforts to express the force of every particle, becomes bar-
barous, and the other in his ambition to be elegant, sometimes
gives any sense rather than that of the author. Oh, the misery
of correcting Latin in which there is no indictable mistake
and yet all is wrong ab initio !

"August, 1820. — It is delightful weather with us: plenty of
ripe melons remind us of old times. I have made no accession
to my stock of botanical science this summer; the wild flowers
enjoy their retreats unmolested. Next week comes commence-
ment. The last numbers of the Edinburgh and Quarterly
and various other new publications lie on the table almost
unopened. We are so much engaged in gossiping and drilling
boys for college that we find but little time for reading. Mr.
Francis supplies me with German theology. The last author
I looked at, Gesenius, adduces some very weighty reasons
for believing that the five books ascribed to Moses were com-
posed as late as the golden age of Hebrew literature, which
he places in the reign of David and his successor. Who shall
decide when doctors disagree? I wish I could read Hebrew
and its sister dialects."

" WALTHAM, October 5th, 1820.
" DEAR BROTHER, —

" You allude to the popular language of the New Testament :
had our Lord delivered discourses on abstract virtue, had he
talked of the Creator of the universe being its moral governor,
that his government was administered by general laws, that in
its constitution virtue and happiness, vice and misery, were
inseparably and eternally connected, that every step in the
one was a step toward felicity, and in the other toward degra-
dation and suffering, that consequences were connected with
actions exactly proportioned to their merit or demerit, his
words would have fallen like empty sounds upon the ears
of a morally debased, superstitious, and ignorant multitude,
who could be impressed only through the medium of the

144 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

passions, and who had no idea of any suffering but physical
suffering. In all ages and states of society a revelation or
system of religion intended equally for the philosopher and
the peasant must admit the greatest latitude of interpretation
in its phraseology. The peasant needs its guidance and con-
solations most; it seems but fair, therefore, that its language
should be suited to his comprehension: from the apologue
and the allegory the philosopher will easily infer the general
truth or moral. As to the passage in Isaiah, critics say 'a
mighty God, a father of the age' is the most correct trans-
lation of the original ; and in the Hebrew idiom these are by
no means extravagant expressions as applied to distinguished
personages. The question at issue between trinitarians and
their opponents involves such a multitude of others, meta-
physical, ethical, historical, philological, and critical, that it
seems to be no easy day's work to determine it. One of the
principal reasons why the war is protracted without any prog-
ress toward a conclusion appears to me to be that the dis-
putants are continually on the same old ground, adducing and
explaining Scripture passages, while the most important point,
the nature of inspiration, and the degree of it attending the
sacred records, is almost entirely kept out of sight. — Well, I
think I have given you theology enough: so I will take up
my work. But first I will mention a curious appearance on a
bough of black alder which the boys brought in just now: it
looks verily like white down, and seems to be a collection of
singular insects of different sizes, some with wings and some
without. Dr. Dana calls them a species of aphis, a genus
which naturalists consider a sort of anomaly. The sweet
exudation on plants called honeydew is supposed to be pro-
duced by them. I intend to look out for them next summer.
I have been reading Ricardo on Political Economy, a sensible
work on that most complicated of all sciences. He dissents
from Adam Smith in some important points on the subject of
rent, wages, and profit; and if his opinions are correct, which
he makes out very much to the satisfaction of a reader who
is blessed with no greater stock of general or particular knowl-

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. !45

edge in this science than myself, he has detected some errors
of considerable importance in their practical influence on the
subject of taxation and other questions in legislation.

" I have adopted your advice of making George write Latin
every day; and his pieces are so excessively Latin that an old
Roman would be puzzled to make it out. I know no better
way of correcting the faults than making him write from a
translation of Cicero and then compare with the original. I
have been traveling slowly through Sophocles ever since you
left us ; began his last, Philoctetes, to-day, with the aid of a
Hedericus which Mr. R. brought home last Thursday. I think
the Trachiniae is the poorest of his dramas. — I have just looked
out to admire the unclouded brightness of an October moon,
and return to bid you good-night. . . .

"Ajax is a good play: there is one scene between him and
his wife and child very great. One of the chief difficulties in
the choruses is, words you cannot find in the dictionary, and
the translations take such license in rendering they afford you
very little help.

" Gam was commending Wells's philosophical essays to me;
one of them a solution of the problem why having two eyes
we see objects single. One set of philosophers refers it to
the judgment of the mind, the perception of touch correcting
those of sight. He proves mathematically that it must be so
and cannot be otherwise.

" There is a good article in the N. A. Review on Tudor's
book, by Everett. It is curious to remark the change that
has taken place in sentiments and opinions since a few years.
What would have been stigmatized some half-dozen years ago
as rank democracy is now regarded but as the honest ex-
pression of American feeling, and a just estimation of the
superior privileges of our own free and rising republic."

"WALTHAM, January 1 2th, 1821. '

" DEAR BROTHER, —

" After many weeks of anxious expectation, to our great joy
we received this evening yours from Greenville, a place not

10

146 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

considerable enough to occupy a point on a map half a yard
square, the largest we could find in the house. After reading
over each other's shoulders, — we had hurried through the
letter with breathless speed, — to our great disappointment we
were referred for exact particulars to father, who was here
yesterday and may not be here again this fortnight. — Omnia
mutantur is my text, and the subject is so full I scarce know
what particulars to select. If you could transport yourself
to Waltham, you would perchance find yourself in a nursery
surrounded with cribs, cradles, guards, etc., your path im-
peded with dolls and playthings, the joint property of three
little girls : your second niece made her entree some seven
weeks since; the third is little Sarah E. You have probably
heard that a malignant fever has swept off her whole family
except the three boys and this baby : she was named for me,
and we have adopted her. The family is broken up. The two
youngest boys are at Duxbury. The babies make so great
demands on my time and attention that I have more excuse
than ever for scraps and dry detail. Good-night : you will
hear from me again when they are all safe in bed to-morrow
evening. January 1 8th. — Since I wrote the above, my baby has
been dangerously ill, and is not yet well enough to be out of
my arms : so I have left the remainder of the paper to be filled
by the younger ones."

"WALTHAM, February 2d, 1821.

" DEAR BROTHER, —

"With Caesar's Commentaries at hand I might perhaps
reply to your first question. I will answer the second after
the Yankee fashion, by suggesting other queries. And, first,
is there not good reason to believe that the cruel superstition
of Druidism was familiar to the islanders before the time
when you suppose it to have been introduced by Hengist and
Horsa ? It appears from Tacitus Ann. lib. xiv. 30, that the
soldiers of Suetonius were so terrified by its horrid rites at
their landing on the island Mona, " ut quasi luzrentibus mem-

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

147

bris, immobile corpus vulneribus praberent" For the second
query, as it is an aphorism in ethics that we always hate most
bitterly those from whom we differ least, is it not equally true
that the hatred and ambitious rivalship of petty princes has
always been superior to the dread of the ambition of a foreign
power ? Did not the mistress of the world call in the Goths
to decide the contest between her political factions ? If I
mistake not, the Vandals got footing in Africa by the same
means; and I dare say the historical treasures of your memory
have many illustrations of the same general position. I want
to see you, to rub up my history and chronology : facts in my
head which cannot be generalized are like so many beads ;
if the string once be broken they are all 'in a loose heap. I
am reading Malthus on Population. You do not like works
on political economy, but I promise you, — from his perspicu-
ous and convincing general reasoning, and copious induction
of interesting facts and illustrations, you will find him as en-
tertaining as any novel, Scott's not excepted. I suppose you
will retort upon me, ' Chacun a son gout' At any rate, you
have no dislike to a good piece of reasoning on any subject."

"May 5th, 1821.

" Last week father and I took a trip to Duxbury: we spent
a day going the rounds, and took tea at Mr. Partridge's; in
his small parlor was collected more good sense and soul than
would save all Waltham, — scilicet, Mr. Partridge, Dr. Allyn,
Mr. Frazier, Uncle Gershom, and father. It seemed indeed
like liberty to roam at large once more over barren hills and
heaths, where there is no need of looking around you at every
turn lest you should be trespassing on somebody's ploughed
field or meadow-land. Scenes associated with the delightful
recollections of youth charm the more, the more they differ
from one's present situation : the soldier, the mariner, and the
statesman, when in after-life they visit their native spot, the
pond where they first put to sea their little bark, the hill they
first climbed to behold the rising sun, enjoy more than the

148 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

ploughman, who was born and will be buried at its foot, ever
dreamed of.

" Professor Stuart has been publishing some essays upon
the study of the Oriental languages, translated from the
German : he is very desirous of exciting a taste for the study
of these languages at Andover. His enthusiasm discovered
in the notes is very amusing : you feel on reading them as
if everybody must be an ignoramus who is not versed in the
crooked letters of the East. He would make you believe that
the Arabic, for its copiousness and variety of inflexions and
the treasures of literature to which it is a key, is infinitely
more deserving the attention of the scholar than the Greek.
I doubt whether the institution in future time will not bear
away the palm before Cambridge in biblical criticism. They
make nothing but theologians at Andover, but they make
lawyers and doctors too at Cambridge. I have added this
spring to the blank leaves of Bigelow a low species of juniper.

" I am reading a German chemistry, in which, instead of
the convenient nomenclature derived from the Greek, one is
obliged to contend with barbarous German compounds, salz-
sauer for muriatic acid, sauer-stoff for oxygen, and ivasser-stoff
for hydrogen. The German language must be an interesting
subject in philology : it seems to be the only modern one
which has arrived at such a point of refinement as to be the
vehicle of science, — a natural growth without having been
grafted from a foreign stock.

" I believe I shall exceed my term of four weeks this time;
but I find very little leisure during the day, and you know
how we gossip away summer evenings at Waltham."

"June 3Oth, 1821.

" You complain in your last of long silence ; and I fear the
complaint will be reiterated. Our family is so numerous that
I find no time to write by daylight, and it is the fashion in
Waltham to spend the summer evenings basking in the moon-
beams. .

MRS. SAMUEL RIFLE Y.

149

" I find some time to read yet, but little to think. Pindar,
with your pencil-marks, lies on the table where I am writing. I
wish there were more of them, though I cannot always decide
whether they denote beauties or difficulties. I have opened
at the u-fpw vwrov aiwpsl : it is certainly beautiful, but the Eng-
lish bard does not fall far short of it, ' with ruffled plumes and
flagging wing,' etc. I know not what I would not give for
one of our old discussions; yet we should not enjoy it in so
much peace as we used to do, for one must have the voice of
a Stentor to be heard above the clamor the little trio make,
whether in mirth, in sorrow, or in anger.

"July $th. — Yesterday being the 4th of July, and our boys
being dispersed in various directions, we proceeded to Boston
to do up various ceremonious visits. We went into town over
the mill-dam, an immense work, from which the posterity of
the speculators will probably reap some advantage. It lands
you in Beacon Street, the court end of the town, instead of
dirty and retired lanes. The day was cool and uncommonly
fine for the celebration. Charles Loring gave a sensible ora-
tion, and Mr. performed a performance (why not, as

well as run a race ?), miscalled a prayer, which did violence to
the good taste and religious feeling of his audience : it was
perfect histrionism, an appeal to the Deity in behalf of perse-
cuted debtors, who were denied the privilege of joining in the
festivities of the day.

"Another Saturday night finds my page unfinished; it is
twelve o'clock, and I have just made the last preparation for
the Sabbath, that I, as well as my four-footed brethren, may
enjoy comparative leisure for one day at least, — if it can be
called leisure to rise at half-past six, wash three babies before
breakfast, look after the tidiness of fifteen boys, and walk half
a mile to meeting under a burning sun.

" We were amused in looking over Mather's Magnalia to
find the words of one Dr. Arrowsmith, to this effect : ' Faxit
Dcus Optimus, Maximus, tenacem adeo veritatis Jianc Acade-
(sell. Almam Matrcnt] ut deinceps in Anglid lupum, in

ISO

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Hibcrnia bufonem invenire faciliiis sit, quam attt Socinianum
ant Arminianum in Cantabrigia? The reckless winds, alas !
must have dispersed in empty air the pious wishes of the godly
man.

" I have been reading old Izaak Walton's Complete Angler,
one of the most calm and placid books I ever looked into."

MRS. RIPLEY TO MISS ALLYN.

" WALTHAM, New Year's Eve, 1822.
" MY DEAR ABBA, —

" My husband and Margaret have gone to a party, and I
have been amusing myself with the senseless, superstitious
dreams of the Jewish Talmudists about the advent of the Mes-
siah, resurrection, etc., and, having fairly nodded, I was awaked
by the idea of yourself flitting before the fancy : so I will e'en
throw by the drowsy book and wish you a happy new year ;
and never, surely, did one open with brighter auspices for you.
We sympathize in the 'predisposition to low spirits' of which
you speak, and of which we can give scarce a better account
than the modern sons of Esculapius who so often use the term.
Whatever may be the cause of said low spirits, one thing is
certain as to their removal, they vanish at the shadow of
a real evil. Elizabeth has been quite unwell for two or three
days, and the bare thought that death may have set his eye
upon her would in a trice exorcise a legion of demons that
might have possessed the imagination.

" Jan. %th. — I am again alone, if it can be called alone with
half a score of boys and three babies ; the babies have already
yielded to the influence of the dull god who 'on the high
and giddy mast seals up the ship-boy's eyes and rocks his
brains in cradle of the rude imperious surge,' and I have been
balancing between Ned Search* and yourself, but the later
acquaintance has kicked the beam : so now enlarge the circle
of your fireside and make room for a visitor. You need not

* See Tucker's "Light of Nature."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. !$!

polish up the Lares, sweep the hearth, adjust the ruffle: it is
a visitor who asks nought but the flattery of a friendly shake
and brightened eye. Oh that there were no other intercourse
than that of perfect confidence ! Sophia sent me word to-day
when you were to be married ; I put on an air of incredulity,
which mightily amused Martha, that I should appear so jeal-
ous lest any one should know more of your arcana than my-
self. I shall not see Mr. Francis again before you see him.

" Have you read Valerius ? It gives you a picturesque view
of the great city, and a lively one of Roman manners ; but I
think there are few fine touches in character: some appear to
me strained, and others tame. I have not finished it, however.
Read Juvenal's fourteenth satire. I just went to the table to
see what was the number of the one I was reading last even-
ing, and it produced such a burst of ridicule that I should be
obliged to have recourse to the Roman satirist to study out
an epistle, that I dare not make an extract. There is such
an agreeable buzz on the other side of the room that my mind
is abstracted from my fingers, and I must bid you good-even-
ing and bear my part. So we shall not see you at Martha's
wedding ?

" Your most affectionate friend, S. A. R."

In 1822 Mrs. Ripley's sister Martha was married to Dr.
Josiah Bartlett, of Concord, Massachusetts, — ten miles from
Waltham. Dr. Bartlett still lives in that town, respected and
beloved by all. Her friend Miss Allyn in the same year was
married to the Rev. Convers Francis, then minister of Water-
town, a town adjoining Waltham, and afterwards a professor
in the divinity school of Harvard University. Mr. Francis,
an eminent scholar, took equal delight with his wife in the
society of her friend, and their names recur often in the record
of visitors who were always welcome.

It is greatly to be regretted that Mrs. Ripley's letters fur-
nish so slight material for any record of her life during the

152

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

greater part of her residence at Waltham. For twenty years
after the date of her latest letters to her brother Daniel there
are but few of which I have any knowledge. This period of
her life was full of arduous labors in the rearing of her family,
the care of her household, and the teaching of pupils in her
husband's school, or private pupils of her own, both boys and
girls. During these years two sons and four daughters suc-
ceeded the "little trio" in the nursery, while those elder chil-
dren grew up to share, each according to her gifts, the cares
and labors and friendships of the busy house. One of the
younger daughters, born in 1822, died very young. A letter
dated in 1835, from a friend who had passed a night at the
Waltham parsonage, says, " The children in this house, — what
a charm there is in their naturalness ! Mary is a sort of
household fairy ; a temper hers and a wit that raise and make
light the daily bread of housewifery. Elizabeth walks aloof,
pleased with still hours and books. Gore lives in an ideal
world, and very comic in the boy is the occasional crazed look
with which he suddenly re-enters the actual upon compulsion.
The rest time must marshal." And again he says, " Sitting
down with Mrs. Ripley, — ' leaped the live thought,' and two
noble hours of genuine conversation had we, quite alone.
Never did I love her so well, for never did I see her so nearly.
It is good to find the contrarieties of fortune fused, as it
were, by the genius of the individual, — the ' Deus in nobis*
asserted and returned to continually."

Mrs. Ripley was little of a traveler. She went once with her
husband to Waterford, in Maine, where her friend Miss Mary
Emerson lived, and once, for her health, to Burlington, in Ver-
mont. It was probably on occasion of this last journey that
she went as far as the city of New York, where she saw La
Fayette. The journey, therefore, must have been in 1824 or
1825.

The transcriber of these letters first saw Mrs. Ripley in
1834, when she was about forty years old; but I had heard
of her all through my youth, as a lady who united all house-
hold and motherly virtues to very uncommon learning.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

153

Looking back to my visits at the Waltham house, I recall
with pleasure that pure atmosphere of intelligence and sin-
cerity, where the flowers of thought opened, and the circle of
friends brought their best to a mind so quick to appreciate
and so eager to learn, — to a heart so ready to sympathize with
any genuine experience.

The house was pleasant and well ordered. With entire
simplicity in the household details, no guest ever missed any
comfort or refinement; while at times of unusual festivity, as
the wedding of a daughter, or a party given by the young
people, it was the delight of their wealthier neighbors to send
graceful and abundant offerings of rare fruits and flowers to
decorate the occasion. The mother's dress was as simple as
possible, in so far as her own hand was concerned in the
arrangement of it; and one might well be ashamed of the
anxieties of the toilet who saw how distinguished and attract-
ive, in the absence of all that belonged to changing fashion,
was the nobility of form and radiance of expression which
made ornament superfluous.

Her scholars and children have pleasant pictures of her,
sitting in summer under the shade of trees near the house, —
the boys, with their books, about her, reciting in the open air.
Her hands were often busy with some household task while
the Virgil or Homer was set up open before her : " she did
not," says one of her scholars, " keep her eyes upon the book ;
she seemed to know it by heart, and always set us right, or
asked us questions, or pointed out her favorite passages with
enthusiasm, without interrupting the sewing, or the shelling
of peas;" and he adds, "she was always sweet and serene."

I remember going with Mrs. Ripley and Mr. and Mrs.
Emerson from Concord to Cambridge, to meet some distin-
guished foreigners at a party where many eminent persons
were present. I had never before seen her in society except
in her own house or in family meetings surrounded by inti-
mate friends. I was struck by the marked and joyful attention
shown her, as one person after another eagerly recognized her
presence; and also with her own animated and responsive

154

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

enjoyment It seemed to me that to old and young the
meeting with Mrs. Ripley was the crown of the occasion. I
remember thinking, too, that no one was so lovely, or, with
whatever aid of wealth or fashion, so becomingly dressed, as
she, in her plain blade robe, and the simple lace cap which
marked in delicate outline her beautiful silver hair and noble
face.

There is hardly any satisfactory portrait of Mrs. Ripley.
Her family have a picture by Alexander, taken when she was
about thirty years old, which is liked by some persons who
knew her then. Cheney took a crayon likeness of her in the
year 1845, but he was dissatisfied with it and refused to allow
it to go out. It is, however, still in existence. Another
small portrait, in oil, is in possession of the family, which was
painted in 1857. It is, in most respects, a good likeness.
There are also several photographs taken within a few years
of her death ; but they would give to a stranger small means
of forming any accurate impression of the original.

A lady who was one of the most dear and valued friends
of Mrs. Ripley during her life in Waltham writes, —

" My most intimate associations with Mrs. Ripley are with
her Waltham life, — associations with the most gifted woman,
morally and intellectually, it has ever been my happiness to
enjoy. But they were of so intimate and private a nature that
it seems almost a breach of trust to speak of them openly.
All of her was seen through a veil of modesty such as I have
never seen in any other. We would not say that she was un-
selfish; she never thought of self; it was real unconsciousness;
goodness and kindness were so natural to her that she seemed
only to breathe it. I do not think I was capable of estimating
her intellectual power or her attainments ; but when I saw
her in communion with persons of superior intellect I was
quite aware of her gifts. She would say to me — I always
thought, to comfort me, — 'One ounce of good feeling is
worth all the learning in the world.'

" But to see her in her daily life was an education. She
accomplished more than any other, but it was the subtle influ-

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY, 155

•

ence of her sweet, loving, unconscious nature that gave her
the place in our hearts and lives. I know I owe her more
than I can ever express. In all the annoyances of an over-
taxed life I never saw her temper touched. She did not know
resentment; she seemed always living in a sphere far above
us all, yet in perfect sympathy. Go to her, and, at the name
of some wild flower found in a walk, every care was forgotten,
— the occasion was entirely yours. The next moment she
was attending to family matters, or, in summer, was under
the trees surrounded by a bevy of boys, fitting them for col-
lege,— boys who were full of the spirit of boyhood, but who
never forgot what they owed to her ; and when she found
them in danger of incurring censure, a loving word of caution
or suggestion would be spoken, or perhaps quietly conveyed
into a mended pocket.

" You will perceive how unworthy of the public eye are all
these recollections of her. I give them to you as they rise
before me. I have not spoken of her great social attraction.
Nearly all have passed away that could testify to that, but
none of those who are still alive can forget it. . She was the
centre and soul of a small circle who could appreciate and
enjoy. Never shall we look upon her like again."

I may properly find a place here for the following sketch,
which has been kindly sent me by another highly valued
friend of Mrs. Ripley, the Rev. Dr. Hedge. I give it with the
heading which he himself affixed.

"A REMINISCENCE OF MRS. SARAH RIPLEY.
" BY F. H. HEDGE.

"The first impression she made on me and on all who came
near her was one of rich promise, which awakened the desire
of a nearer acquaintance. A wonderful attraction she was,
independently of her rare acquirements, which might draw
the scholar to seek the converse of so learned a woman, — an
attraction proceeding from no personal charms, but due to the
astonishing vivacity, the all-aliveness, of her presence, which

156 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

made it impossible to imagine her otherwise than wide awake
and active in word or work.

" A figure somewhat exceeding in height the average stat-
ure of woman, motions quick and angular without being ex-
actly awkward, a face not physically fair nor yet plain, but
radiant with intellectual and moral beauty, a constant play of
expression, eyes charged with intelligence, quick glancing
from speaker to speaker as the cup of social converse went
round, — such is the image she has left in my memory.

" The charm of her society to me was her perfect natural-
ness, the utter unconsciousness of any special claim to atten-
tion based on her superior learning, which was never intruded,
and only came to light when some student or savant wished
to compare notes with her or she with him. Otherwise, the
woman entirely absorbed and concealed the scholar. It was
the woman, not the scholar, that attracted, that edified, and,
— joined with the generous hospitality and manly qualities of
her husband, — made their house at Waltham so delightful a
place to visit for all who were privileged to be their guests.

" In that house, between the years 1825 and 1840, I was a
frequent visitor, and had abundant opportunity of seeing Mrs.
Ripley in her domestic character, as mother and housewife,
as well as of listening to her converse with literary men. I
wondered at her indefatigable industry. With a large family
and scholars at board, with pupils whom she fitted for college,
or instructed as ' suspended' students in their college studies,
with imperfect health, suffering through life from severe head-
aches, she performed an amount of work which might have
taxed the combined strength of a professional school-teacher
and two ordinary women, — and yet had always time to spare
for her guests, and never, unless prevented by sickness, re-
fused to see her numerous visitors.

" It would be difficult to say to what branch of knowledge
or what class of studies she most inclined. In science and in
languages she was equally at home. Greek she especially
delighted to read and to teach ; but in her latter days botany,
I think, was her favorite pursuit.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 157

" Some of her friends have expressed a regret that she was
not a writer and has left behind no published work to give
proof of her powers. It was quite in keeping with her char-
acter that she did not rush into print and call the world to
witness her intellectual attainments. It did not seem to her
that she had anything to communicate which was not known
to the learned, and which the studious might not find already
in print. But in the hearts of those who knew her she wrote
a book whose substance they will remember as long as they
remember anything, and whose contents are a commentary
on the text, —

'A perfect woman nobly planned."'

At Waltham the cares of the parish and the rule of the
school occupied the busy days of her husband, who writes
from time to time to his sister "out of the thick of the fight;"
and a word or two from these letters may be given here as
illustrative of the place the wife held in house and heart.
The letter which follows begins with a few lines from Mrs.
Ripley herself:

MRS. RIPLEY TO MISS EMERSON.

"Feb. 8th, 1828.

"DEAR MARY, —

" We have another addition to the family, of four pounds
and a half, which has been struggling for existence for a
fortnight, and it appears that the vital power is near gaining
the victory over the tendency to decomposition. It is, in
truth, a respectable little girl with very proper eyes, nose and
mouth, not to mention the organ of mind, all comprised in
a compass not larger than a middling-sized apple. My hus-
band has to do double duty while custom confines me to the
great chair. I generally improve these weeks to rub up the
intellectual and clothe the outer man; but anxiety for the
life of that before-mentioned speck of mortality has hurried

158 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

away most of the two last. Do write; — a letter of congratu-
lation will be expected, of course."

REV. SAMUEL RIPLEY TO MISS EMERSON.

" Yes, my dear sister," adds the husband, " do write a letter
of congratulation ; not so much on account of the ' afore-
mentioned speck of mortality,' which, by the way, is well
worth a few thoughts and words, seeing it is a part of her,
who is above all praise. But, if you do condescend to write
in the congratulatory style, let it be that Providence has given
me such a wife as no other man has, or ever had, a woman
sui generis, the glory of her sex. But I must not write all
I feel, even to you who know the subject of my praise. If
Sarah had thought I would write thus, she would not have
bid me fill up her paper; but sometimes I take the liberty of
doing what I please, albeit usually under pretty good manage-
ment. Wife is uncommonly well : as for her outer man I
cannot say much; her dress is not very comely, for you know
she never paid much attention to appearance, and her hair is
gray, but the fire of her eye is not diminished, and the inner
man grows brighter and purer and soars higher daily."

"Nov. 1836.

" Sarah was so much pleased with her part of your letter
that she wished to answer it at once, but she was fatigued,
and I persuaded her not. She is quite well, but soon gets
tired with work, of which she has more than ever to do, as
we have neither cook nor chambermaid, — one being sick, the
other discharged for bad conduct. Wife has made the bread
for our small family twice, and excellent bread it was. Mary
is all in all, — never her equal in housewifery. Her mother
once said, ' I never open my eyes in the morning without
thanking God for Mary Ripley.' "

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

1837.

" My dear sister, — Yesterday was my birthday, and what
has become of fifty-four years I know not. ... I have much
to be thankful for, many in whom to rejoice, and one, the
richest and choicest blessing that God ever gave to man,
to aid and bless and sustain me, — a pure, noble, exalted
being, whose light gladdens and cheers and at the same
time guides all about her. But I need not tell you of one
whom you know so well."

1839.

" Wife is very well this winter, but has much to do with
boys and men, in the way of recitations, etc. We all have to
work hard. Lizzy says she has no time to read, and Mary,
that she has no dancing or riding. But they enjoy themselves,
and make all around them cheerful and glad."

1840.

" Sarah is now reading Spinoza's Tractatus Theologicus. She
lives in the society of Plato and others of the same school,
and her spirituality raises her above all the poor mortals
around her."

"March, 1841.

" Sarah is very well, and so high in the spiritual world that
nothing disturbs her serenity. She looks with perfect calm-
ness upon everything around her, and is the sun that moves
and warms and animates all within her sphere, which is not
very narrow."

I return again to the letters of Mrs. Ripley, going back to a
date some years earlier than those of her husband last given.

MRS. RIPLEY TO MISS EMERSON.
" DEAR MARY, —

" I believe you do not know me : I would not weaken the
faith of the poorest, the most contemptible, the most hateful

l6o WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

fanatic that bears with me a common nature. God forbid that
I should be the fiend in the paradise of a soul so pure, so
elevated, so spiritual, as Waldo's !* I shall weep with him in
silence, sit humbly at his feet if so I may catch a spark of the
holy inspiration that glows within his bosom. Have I no
admiration for the pure, the beautiful, the good? Has the
pride of intellect raised its altar in my soul, and sent forth
into the highway for its worshipers ? Are my ears closed to
the music of heaven ? No, you cannot believe that it is the
mist of earthly passions which dims my spiritual vision. There
are moments when I would exchange minds with the humblest
being that calls for his Father and has never doubted. Without
faith, creation is a blank, its wonders and its glories a cipher
without a key, and I will not say man, but thinking, feeling
man, is of all beings most miserable. Humanity, if nothing
else, would keep me on the lookout to avoid making ship-
wreck of 's faith, or that of any other of the young ones.

You are fixed on a rock, and I talk with you to find its basis.
" Yours through existence, finite or infinite,

"S. A. R."

" WALTHAM, Sept. 4th, 1833.

" DEAR MARY, —

" I came home from Concord last night with an ague and a
troublesome blister; but when Mr. R. told me there was a
letter from you I darted forward for it, and the privileges of
an invalid have given me time to respond to it. Since you
rest your claim on feeling, it will soon be acknowledged. On
that altar I sacrifice my vanity, and sit down to give you a dry
detail of facts. The journal of one day would serve for all :
the morning spent in hearing recitations, the afternoon in the
labors of the needle or the horrors of digestion, — in the even-
ing the old machine refuses any farther service, unless it be to
take a part in the village gossip. When you ask for a letter,
you expect communion with a soul penetrated with reverence

* R. W. Emerson.

MRS. SAMUEL RIFLE Y. x6i

for the true in itself, warmed through and glowing with ad-
miration for the beautiful and good. These, alas! are the
visions of the lake and mountain, not of the school-room and
parlor. ... I too was disappointed in Sir James.* The
only question to me of philosophical interest in ethics is
whether the moral element be original or acquired : he has
done little to settle that question, though it is evident to which
side he leans. Could he possibly have persuaded himself or
have supposed he could persuade any one else that he had
lifted by so much as the weight of a finger the stumbling-
stone of necessity ? The only able advocates for the liberty
side are those who, like the Germans, boldly assume it on the
evidence of pure reason. To some parts of the book my
heart warms. He deserves a crown of gold for the justice he
does to the good Davidf and the minds of his stamp. The
metaphysics of the heart and head are equally unsatisfying:
the soul of the universe is the only conception which satisfies
my imagination ; but what have the conceptions of a finite
mind to do with the essence of the infinite ? I would give a
great deal to see you for a little while ; but a visit from you is
like a bewitching romance which leaves the reader a dreaming
and unfits him for the humdrum cares and labors of real life.
If I might only see you when what the writer of ' Character-
istics' calls the ' disease of thought' comes on !

" We have put Elizabeth into a class with two boys who are
fitting for college next commencement, and she keeps up with
them very well. In a year or two she will be able to assist
her father. We have lately had a delightful visit of two days
from Waldo. We feel about him as you no doubt do. While
we regard him still more than ever as the apostle of the eter-
nal reason, we do not like to hear the crows, as Pindar says,
caw at the bird of Jove ; nevertheless he has some stout
advocates. A lady was mourning the other day to Mr. Francis
about Mr. Emerson's insanity. ' Madam, I wish I were half
as sane,' he answered, with warm indignation."

* Sir James Mackintosh's Progress of Ethical Philosophy,
f David Hume.

II

1 62 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

CHAPTER III.

IN 1840 the Rev. George F. Simmons was settled over the
parish in Waltham as colleague to Mr. Ripley.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Ripley became warmly attached to Mr.
Simmons, and when, after two years, he resigned his post in
Waltham and went to Europe for two years or more of study,
their whole hearts followed him with love and longing for his
return. The unreserved intercourse of friendship was kept
up by letters, and a selection from these gives material for
this chapter.

The " mother" so often spoken of in these letters, and
" Charles," are the mother and young brother of Mr. Sim-
mons,— then residing in Boston. Between them and the
Ripley family a friendship had already grown up, which was
never interrupted while they lived.

MRS. RIPLEY TO MR. SIMMONS.

" WALTHAM, Oct. 8th, 1843.

" I cannot help fastening the thread now which is to be
spun across the ocean. We bore the farewell courageously,
but we all felt as if the cloud which had been gathering so
long had at last closed round our horizon. . . .

" Mr. Russell came the very day you left Boston, and the
next morning we set out for Prospect,* on which we spent
most of the day, searching every shady corner for mosses.
The lichens he does not so much regard at present : neverthe-
less many were his revelations concerning the lower world of
vegetation. How much I thought of you, it would take one
to tell who has lost the friend with whom for two years all
that has crossed their path, beautiful in nature, new in science,
spiritual in thought, or true and pure and noble in life, has

* Prospect Hill, in Waltham, — a little less than five hundred feet high, and
about a mile and a quarter from Mrs. Ripley's house.

MRS. SAMUEL RIFLE Y. 163

been shared, and thereby doubled. But to return to Russell.
He went up the hill, looking along the ground and calling
out now at the sight of the reindeer moss, and then again at
the variegated leaves of the Pyrola metadata , which he said
was rare in this vicinity, and so on, till we reached the top of
the hill, when he turned round, and, without expecting it, saw
the extensive view which we used to look at last winter. He
exclaimed with admiration enough to satisfy any lover of
Waltham and its beauties. . The lichen which you told me
the farmers used for dyeing he calls Parmelia saxatilis. It is
in color between lead and ashes, and grows everywhere on
the walls, mingling with the light-green P. caperata, which I
trust will often catch your eye on a Prussian or German rock
and transport you back to the village where you live in many
a heart. But I will not fill my paper with botany and Mr.
Russell. I will only tell you that he showed me in his micro-
scope the circulation of the sap in the cells of a small trans-
parent plant. You could see the current of little globules
passing up one side and down the other of the magnified cell.
This is the Eureka of modern botany : nothing was detected
before so like the circulation of the blood in the animal
economy. . . .

" I fear the secular will quite crowd out the theological, so
I give up the pen to Mr. Ripley."

And Mr. Ripley continues :

" Wife has given up the pen to me, and a villainous pen it
is; I must mend it before I can make a mark."

Then follows a statement of parish affairs and prospects,
ending with warm expressions of affection and desire for the
return of the friend " in the hope of seeing whom again so
many live."

" Darby-and-Joan-like, wife and I fix out a letter for you.
It is like the old clergyman and his wife of whom Madam
E. told me that they passed a night at her house, — both in
the habit of smoking. The minister would smoke a few
whiffs, then give the pipe to his better half, who would do

1 64 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the same and hand it back again. In our case, however, wife
begins and almost ends the work, so that little remains for
me."

MRS. RIPLEY TO MR. SIMMONS.

" WALTHAM, Nov. 5th, 1843.

" You are by this time in London. How does Babylon
the great look to you ? I should think that men as they
swarm in the streets of a strange city would look to one like
phantoms : one almost loses sight of the undying spirit even
on Waltham plain. If it were not for the fireside and the
closet we should get to regard it as a matter of very little
importance whether the demons fought or the brownies
labored.

"Sat. ev'g, Nov. nth. — The rain is descending in torrents.
I have just put the finishing stitch to Rufus's* socks. The
boys, all but two, are safe at their own firesides. The whistle
of the wind is mingling in soft harmony with that of the Fitch-
burg railroad. Gore has just arrived, with all the dignity of
a voter, to attend a Whig meeting. I don't know nor care on
whose head the honors of the republic fall ; but one thing I
know, — that I am quite weary of railroad men, and men that
play whist and drink wine. I have a stronger feeling of
brotherhood with the poor Irish fellow that came to the study
window where I was sitting yesterday to beg for work. We
begin to talk of Concord again ; but I suppose it will end as
it begins. Day before yesterday the girls and I, in council in
the dining-room, decided to strike, turn every boy out of the
house, and trust for bread to the one or two private scholars
which I have. The plan was all made out, notice was to be
given to the parents at the Thanksgiving vacation, and the
house was to be cleared the first of January of boys and ser-
vants ; no more roasted turkeys, no more sponge cake, no

* Rufus was the hired man.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. ^5

more entry stoves, — the dinner of herbs with love was all be-
fore us. But alas ! when at the tea-table we proposed our
reform, the cheerful face with which papa had returned from
Lincoln was so changed that our spirits fell at once. Ezra to
leave college, bills at Earle's unpaid, the pleasant wood fire
extinguished forever, and an air-tight reigning in its stead, —
these, with other phantoms of labor and privation, stalked in
grim array past the love-feast of the dining-room, and here
we are, just as we were before, girding ourselves each morn-
ing for the battle of the day. The association is to meet here
next Tuesday. Mr. Ripley has been trying to smoke the poor
bees out of the chimney this afternoon, lest they with their
treasures should make part of the company ; from the buzzing,
there seems to be disturbance in the commonwealth.

" There came a letter from , asking to make an ar-
rangement for an exchange; such a letter as a genial, good-
humored person would write. It reminded me of what the
Unitarians all were in my young days. They had come out
from the dry bones of cant and formalism, with a message to
the understanding. The goodness of God and man's. com-
fortable position in this bright and convenient world were their
constant theme. They sat secure under their own fig-tree,
with a competence for life, free from the petty jealousies which
competition engenders in the other professions ; and their social
affections in general, and especially toward their own fraternity,
blossomed out in great luxuriance. But times are changed.
The priest can no longer stand in the portico, calling out to
those who are passing by, blinded by superstition or hood-
winked by authority. The understanding has had its day ;
the soul is hungering for food, and he that ministers at the
altar must enter into the holy of holies himself, and 'bring it
forth from thence. When the poor bees were buzzing yester-
day with terror and dismay to find their foundations suddenly
undermined with sulphur smoke, the doubt occurred whether
superior beings might not regard the earthquakes and vol-
canoes which lay waste the face of our insignificant planet
with as much indifference as we do the smoking of a bee-hive ;

1 66 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

whether the waste of individual life and happiness might not
be as unimportant in the economy of the great whole. But
the soul answers, no. It declares that its interests are eternal ;
that its intuitions come directly from the centre of all life. — I
am reading Timseus the Locrian, concerning the soul of the
world and of nature, the work of an old Pythagorean philos-
opher supposed to have been contemporary with Socrates.
I am refreshed by the utterances of these primitive worship-
ers of truth. They relieve me from the doubt whether the
eyes of the soul, turned by Christian culture in one direction,
may not see universal truths where it would have dreamed
of no such thing if it had lived eighteen centuries ago. I
return with deepened convictions to the simpler and sublimer
teachings of Him to whom the Spirit was given without
measure.

" Yesterday, being Sunday, Mr. preached, and I felt

more than ever how fast I am receding from the church of
which Unitarianism is the exponent, and that is the only mani-
festation of its power with which I am familiar. We must
have the life of God in the soul. If we find it in the church,
how venerable in its environment of olden time ! but we
eschew the church when it is only a mask to cover the want

of it. Mr. preached from the text 'O wretched man,'

etc. How the bucket of the gentleman danced up and down
on the surface of that deep well of spiritual life from which
the saints have in all ages drawn living water ! But he is a
pleasant fellow, with warm and quick sympathies, and by
these I suppose enters largely into the joys and sorrows of
his flock. I have just returned from a walk: wind blowing
cold enough, but it is good to get out beneath God's pure and
open heaven even this wintry evening, — the moon riding in
mid -heaven in pure splendor, and Venus with Jupiter set like
two diamonds in the front of night. Does not such a canopy
seem a fit cover only for believing, loving souls ? Still sliding
into the homiletic; some spell surrounds me."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. ify

"January gth, 1844.

" I was walking the other morning with Waldo Emerson
in Concord, and I told him I thought the soul's serenity was
at best nothing more than resignation to what could not be
helped. He answered, ' Oh, no ; not resignation, aspiration is
the soul's true state ! What have we knees for, what have we
hands for ? Peace is victory!

" Still in the faith that home detail interests you, I enter
into the minutiae of New Year's presents. . . . But what is
much better than presents from the boys is the fact that
William Lyman takes interest enough in Greek and Latin
to ride out to Waltham these frosty mornings, thermometer
below zero, to read Xenophon and Tacitus to me.

"February 23, 1844. — To-morrow evening Mr. Emerson
lectures at the Rumford. He has promised to bring a lecture
' which has legs.' But I fear, after all, wings will be sprouting
out at the heels. The community at Brook Farm has changed
its internal organization and adopted the Fourier system.
I do not understand the nature of the change, but only the
fact that some of the original settlers, finding the new system
too mechanical for their taste, prefer to stand on their own legs
as individuals, to being merged in a ' dormitory* or ' refectory'
group."

"April 8th, 1844.

" DEAR FRIEND, —

" ' Parturit almns ager, Zephyriqiie tepentibus auris
Laxant arva sinus ; superat tener omnibus /tumor.'

" Just returned from a walk ; the soft air, swelling buds, and
moaning frogs are so associated with the past that we walk
not alone, though the ocean separates us from the friend who
was wont to lay with us the first spring garland on the altar
of nature, — nature, dear mother, whose arms are open and lap
spread to receive us 'when, with low-thoughted care confined
and pestered in this pinfold here,' wearied and fretted, we throw
ourselves upon her genial bosom, and dream of the heaven

1 68 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

which ' lay about us in our infancy.' Mother came out last
Wednesday, being the day before Fast, to spend said anniver-
sary with us. But she could not hold out against the fine
weather and our entreaties, so she stayed till this morning,
Monday. Fast was a most beautiful day, warm as July. The
boys were off in the cars, with leave to stay till the next Mon-
day. Soon after, Uncle George arrived, his great boots bring-
ing with them no small quantity of the Concord soil. He
joined us in the dining-room, converted, as you know, on
such occasions into a cooking-room, to prepare for the once
holy day, now become a holiday. The meat stuffed, and the
puddings and cake in the oven, we repair to the parlor, to look
out for the cars ; and soon the motley current pours past the
Townsends, no small part of it turning down the lane. Im-
mediately all heads at the windows, to determine who is who
in the group, and as soon as mother, Lizzy, Nannie, Susan T.,
and Sarah are made out, a rush from the house to welcome
them to the joys of leisure and friendship. Next comes
Ezra, with the news that Dr. Francis purposes, with Mrs.
Francis, to take tea with us the next day. Congratulations
over, the evening passes swiftly and gayly away. What is
wanting in wit is made up in laughter. Lizzy comes freighted
from the halls of the great, Uncle George with radicalism
from Concord, and the sophomore with nonsense from Cam-
bridge. Uncle George and Lizzy agree that their souls have
no fellowship with Beacon Street. Mother is wide awake,
eats blanc-mange in spite of Dr. Jackson, and, after she has
gone through the form of retiring for the night with the girls
Mr. Ripley is obliged to raise his voice with the admonition
that ' it is time for honest folk to be asleep.' Now I am
again at the morning, warm as July. After a social breakfast,
which none can taste as those who keep boys, Uncle George
leaves us for Brook Farm, to visit his old friends and see how
Fourierism thrives. And in his stead comes Dr. Noyes, who

makes the sermon, and a young Mr. , of whom I have

told you before as ' a person to be much scrambled for both
by the churches and by the ladies.' . . . Mother and I set

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. ^9

forth for the hills, beguiling the way with a constant buzz,
which Mary somewhat ludicrously mimics. Saw the doctor
and his coadjutor safe in their chaise, and then mother and
I set forth for the greenhouse. Mr. Irish showed us all his
things ; and when we were sated with heat and fragrance, and
had quenched our thirst from a broken flower-pot with the
bright water from the cistern at the gate, we turned our steps
homeward, and on the way met the party from Cambridge.
By this time you will be willing that the various ' groups and
series' should amuse and dispose of themselves as they best
may, leaving you, as the Germans say, to find yourself.
Mother and I have scoured the fields and climbed the rocks
every day ; and time would fail me to tell what we saw and
what we said. This morning, which rose in mist, took mother
away, and thus ends my tale. The I4th, Saturday, I spent in
bed with headache. Sunday morning the sun looked out on
the fields bright and warm as June. I rose at five, took an
apple in my hand, and C.'s volume of Beethoven under my arm.
I took the road to Prospect, sat down on a rock at the foot,
and was reading my book, when I heard a rustling among
the fallen leaves, and, turning round, a fawn laid his ' innocent
nose' in my lap. The picturesque, however, soon vanished,
with the illusion of the l feres nature,' for a gabbling among
the trees announced the approach of four girls, with whom
the fawn joined company and left me to my book. Between
nine and ten I returned, so weary and red that the people
who met me on the road did not recognize me. Mr. Lippitt
preached, — a sensible, quiet man, without affectation. He
made a good statement of our debt to the past and consequent
obligation to the future, and pleased the conservatives by 'as-
serting that the community men entirely overlooked or dis-
owned said debt. When we reached home we found Charles
in the study. The evening passed most pleasantly. We had
music. He asked me to walk with him next morning at five.
Accordingly, the rising sun lighted us on our way to the
mountain again. We sheltered ourselves from the cool north-
west beneath the covert of the moss-grown rock on the top

I/O

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of the hill. Charles warmed as he read and talked of the
sublime inspirations of the deaf apostle. Charles is devoted
to star-gazing: spends most of his evenings when here in
consulting the old defaced dusty globe and drawing maps of
the heavens.

" You recollect that stick with the lichen hebraica so beau-
tifully sketched upon it, that I labored with my hand and you
with your penknife to procure ? alas ! some vandal has given
it to the flames. I have not met with another specimen be-
fore or since."

" May 20th, 1844.

" To-day is the third day of our holidays, and I am enjoying
it alone. Sophia has gone to Lowell, to enact what Jean Paul
would call an Idyll with Fanny A. Phebe is taking lessons
in music again : we encourage it, as the gem in the bottom of
her cup of daily labors and vexations with the nine urchins
in the attic. Lizzy collects her tribe of pupils in Miss Cush-
ing's parlor. They count much on amalgamation with Phebe's
nine beneath the trees at recess, to eat their cakes and cut their
jokes.

' Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call

Ye to each other make.
******

My heart is at your festival,
******
The fullness of your bliss, I feel, I feel it all.'

With this rapture of the poet I bid you good-night.

" May 22. — I have left a heap of stockings, — for stockings will
wear out even in vacations, — to spend a few moments with you.
I am writing in the girls' room. The fir-tree at the window
is covered with little red sparrows picking the seeds from the
cones : what preachers of faith they are ! Last Saturday Mr.
Ripley and myself, with the two youngest girls, went to Dux-
bury to pass Sunday. Duxbury is the Arcadia of my youth :
the sand hills and pine forests, the moss-covered grave-stone
of my grandfather, the very boards I used to tread on the
way to church, now half buried in sand, are there still, but

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. \j\

they tell me of that which can never return ; they reveal to
me what I was and what I am. All of them

' speak of something that is gone.

The pansy at my feet

Doth the same tale repeat.
Whither is fled the visionary gleam ?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream ?

* -x- * * * *

What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind ;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.'

" When we came home, we found mother assisting Mary
to dress for a wedding. The wedding, — don't you wish you
knew whose it was ? No other than your young brother in
the faith, J. W. Amiable, affectionate, domestic young people,
looking forward to a quiet life of duty and love in the bosom
of their parish, — poor things ! they little know what is in store
for them. But through trial come strength and wisdom.
Mother went into Boston ; Charles to walk with me, and so
missed the train, but bore it tranquilly, and we sat down to
study Virgil's description of the plough, and went out to re-
alize our guesses with Rufus and his model."

" June, 1844.

" Charles whets his logic weapons and tries their temper on
me. He takes the side of the ' Utilej I the ' Honestum' The
other morning I was picking to pieces an old mattress in the
barn, and was making a most disagreeable dust. Charles
came from under the tree where he had been reading, and,
seating himself on the hay-mow, began to discuss the subject

1/2

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of the dissolution of the Union. He has a clear head, and
gives me much light on questions of popular debate.

" Mr. Ripley suffers from the old enemy ; he has taken a
new post in the knee, and is not to be driven away by cotton
or colchicum. So it is time I was in bed ; for I must rise at
five and work till five waiting on the boys. I have two youths
to drag through Cicero and Caesar into college in eight weeks ;
but it is not a disagreeable task, as they know the value, of
instruction, and there is something like disinterestedness in
working for those from whom you hope to receive little in
return. The youths with money give me shawls and caps,

but very little satisfaction.

**********

" Hermann, and Werther's Charlotte are a proof that the
man (Goethe) had an apprehension of true love and the dig-
nity of virtue. The scene at the fountain is excellent, — and
the Pfarrherr. The dignity with which Charlotte dismisses
for the last time the love-distracted youth is peculiarly noble.
It is virtue acting, not canting."

" WALTHAM, June 2oth, 1844.

" Day before yesterday I went to Cambridge to meet a
pleasant party at Dr. Francis's, — Miss Fuller, Sarah Clarke,
Mrs. Farrar, the Whites, James Lowell, an artist by the name
of Page with his very beautiful wife, Dr. Gray, etc. The party
was for the Clarkes, who are soon to leave for the West. S.
was quiet and intelligent as usual. William White and James
Lowell kept the ball going in the way of conversation. There
was nothing said to be remembered, but the talk was free and
easy ; no one felt any responsibility, but all were cheered and
electrified by the atmosphere of wit and intelligence. William
Tiffany's drawings were shown, who receives many compli-
ments from connoisseurs. I know you take an interest in the
fine boy, and will be glad to hear that on the same day he
had read in public a dissertation on the effect of Christianity

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

173

on the fine arts, for which he received the first prize. I hope
he will not be too much elated with success ; he seems very
modest still. The drawings we looked at were illustrations
of the Ancient Mariner, and some from Goethe. I do not
understand such matters, but they seemed to me full of life,
especially the spirit of the storm in a cloud. ... I returned
in the morning cars. The engineer, a brother of Professor
Felton, and the contractor, Mr. Belknap, attracted my atten-
tion. It makes one feel alive to see the workers in the world,
efficient men, and believers too, though it be but in railroads ;
not wholly selfish either, and looking no farther than their
own pockets, but working cheerfully and hopefully for others
as well as themselves. When I saw the two aforesaid speci-
mens of humanity conferring together, with an expression
that showed life was a reality to them, I sympathized for the
moment with them, and thought that the champions of ideas,
who talk and talk while the cars fly by with bell and whistle,
if they would be heard must keep serene and look benevolent,
and not complain if the loaves and fishes fall to those whose
rightful wages they are. J. W. and his pretty bride took tea
with us this evening, looking as satisfied and happy as if they
had just entered into rest instead of warfare."

" August 1 6th, 1844.

" Last Saturday, thermometer nearly eighty, Ezra and I
set out for Duxbury at four o'clock in the morning, to follow
Uncle Gershom to the grave. I believe you saw enough of
him to be interested in the circumstances of his death. He
had gathered a basket of his early corn, in which he took
much pride, and was in the act of handing it to Mrs. Weston
with a smile, when his knees sank under him, and he fell at
the doorstep and never breathed again. A death beautiful, be-
cause in keeping with his life. A man most self-dependent,
hating all pretension and display, and living so much out of
doors as to be almost as much a part of nature as the trees

174

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

whose fruit he gathered. I loved him like a father, for he
was part and parcel of my childish joys. In his youth he
was the very embodiment of fun. You never could calculate
on what he would do or say. And in his manhood, the
staunch supporter of every good cause, he lived a silent but
most efficient life, walking in his own path without fear or
favor. Long before the temperance movement began, he had
banished all liquors, even wine and cider, from his table.
The evening after his funeral, being Sunday, there was a tem-
perance meeting in the woods ; and I should rather have been
the subject of the tribute paid to his memory by those whom
he had saved, than to have been crowned in the Capitol with
the laurel or the oak. The grief of his children is worth all
the sermons on immortality I ever heard. Everything is
sacred which belonged to him. The old chair in which he
sat beneath a tree has a large stone placed in it, that it may
not be removed. They rejoice that the clothes he preferred
to wear are too old to give away. Aug. 22d. — Last Sunday,
Mr. and Mrs. Ames, Uncle George, and Charles with us. The
evening better still, by the addition of Dr. and Mrs. Francis,
who passed the night likewise ; so there was no need to
look at watches to see how time wagged. George told me
an anecdote of Uncle Gershom so characteristic that I must
repeat it. He was walking in his woods, and saw a man
cutting down a tree ; he concealed himself, that the man
might not see him, and went home. When asked why he did
not put a stop to the man's proceedings, he said, ' Could not
the poor man have a tree ?' "

" On the mountain one feels like a man and not a member.
I would there were more of the mountain in life, — its faith and
freedom. You have so often taken up the gauntlet against
conventions that I do not fear bondage after this manner for
you. But if perchance the pride of learning should fence you
in any theological pen, I pray that the fence may never be
close enough or high enough to hide the mountain."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 175

"WALTHAM, Oct. 6th, 1844.

'' DEAR FRIEND, —

" It is several weeks since I have spoken to you, not because
you have been absent from my mind, — oh, no ! but because
these fine days have brought many friends, and many boys
have brought cares. It is no longer, ' mother and Charles
came out one day and returned the next,' — for mother is one
of us : she has entered the penetralia, been initiated into the
mystery of the household gods, comes to breakfast with the
girls after the boys have retired, and so on. Then her diver-
tissement is to mend the stockings and roll them up in the
neatest manner, whiten sheets and napkins on the grass, watch
the robins as they come in flocks for the berries on the moun-
tain-ash tree at the west window, and take a stroll at evening
with me, to talk of our children, to compare our experiences,
what we have learned and what we have suffered, and, last of
all, to complete with pears and melons the cheerful circle about
the solar lamp these chill autumn evenings. Just now, how-
ever, she has gone, and the day that she went into the city,
Mary Emerson, a sister of Mr. Ripley, who has not visited us
before for many years, came at evening and has been with
us till to-day. She is seventy years old, and still retains all
the oddities and enthusiasms of her youth, — a person at war
with society as to all its decorums ; she eats and drinks what
others do not, and when they do not ; dresses in a white robe
such days as these ; enters into conversation with everybody,
and talks on every subject ; is sharp as a razor in her satire,
and sees you through and through in a moment. She has
read, all her life, in the most miscellaneous way, and her appe-
tite for metaphysics is insatiable. Alas for the victim in whose
intellect she sees any promise ! Descartes and his vortices,
Leibnitz and his monads, Spinoza and his unica substantia,
will prove it to the very core. But, notwithstanding all this,
her power over the minds of her young friends was once
almost despotic. She heard of me when I was sixteen years
old as a person devoted to books and a sick mother, sought
me out in my garret without any introduction, and, though

176 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

received at first with sufficient coldness, she did not give up till
she had enchained me entirely in her magic circle. . . . We
took Miss Emerson to Brook Farm, Mr. and Mrs. Ripley*
being old friends of hers. Things looked comfortless to me,
in spite of the new buildings. Mr. and Mrs. Ripley, who
were once the centre about which persons united by common
intellectual and moral sympathies revolved, now seem to be
units lost in a crowd.

" I talked with J. S. D., and asked him what he was doing.
He said his business was to arrange juvenile industry, and
that he found it quite difficult and disagreeable. Poor man !
I cannot make one child work ; I don't know what I should
do with fifty. . . . Ezra is deep in metaphysics, and brings me
many a case in casuistry to settle ; tells me how Dr. Walker
decides, and sometimes we venture to dissent from the oracle
when the response is for a limit instead of a great principle."

MRS. RIPLEY TO MRS. FRANCIS.

[1844-]

" DEAR ABBA, —

" Ezra said you were glad to receive a note from me. It
gives me great pleasure to believe it. When your father, who
was everything to me so many years ago, said, 'Be a friend to
my daughter,' he could not foresee that our lot would be cast
so near together that constant intercourse would keep the
chain bright. Years have not dimmed the clear, truthful vision
nor chilled the warm and genial love of the beautiful and the
good in the friend of my youth. And now that you have been
and are laying me under a pecuniary obligation by your kind-
ness to Ezra, which perhaps I shall never be able to repay, I
do not feel embarrassed by the fear that I shall not, but rather
rejoice in the fact of my entire confidence in your love.

"S. A. R."

* Mr. and Mrs. George Ripley.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

MRS. RIPLEY TO MR. SIMMONS.

" Jan'y gth, 1845.

" G. read me letters from his friend who is studying for the
Catholic Church, full of deep humility and generous Catholi-
cism. I would that the self-satisfied formalists who swarm in
Unitarian pulpits — and not in those only, I suppose — could
hear them. You will wonder, perhaps, that such a spirit
should have found its home in the Catholic Church. But the
form in which a soul deeply stricken by religious conviction
clothes the expression of its faith and love is an idiosyncrasy
which we cannot always understand unless we understand
thoroughly the person who is the subject of it. ... Phoebe
comes home this morning and tells us that Mr. Clarke had
announced to his society his intention of exchanging with
Mr. Parker, and thereupon one man took up his cane and
marched out. I should like to be in the pulpit once, to be
able to say, ' I shall on the next Sabbath exchange with Theo-
dore Parker: first, because I believe him to be a religious man,
for religion I understand to be the surrendering of the soul to
God and to the guidance of his Holy Spirit ; and secondly, be-
cause he is a friend of man, and Jesus was the friend of man.'
And if the sleek citizens with varnished boots, and souls nar-
rower than their purses, should take up their canes and walk,
I would betake myself to a more generous brotherhood in the
potato-field, and leave the pulpit to those willing to walk in
such a treadmill."

"Jan. 27th, 1845.

" A few days since came the packet by the Slow Dutchman,
full of interesting matter. I should hesitate about what I
have to write in return, if it were not that the parts of your
letters are devoured with most eagerness which assure us that
you love and think of us always. We heard they were in Boston
and hesitated about a ride to Cambridge, lest they should ar-
rive while we were gone; home at half-past ten; found Mr.
R. reading his share with a look of triumph over us; time left

12

1^8 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

before bed only to read, or rather glance over, the latest and
most loving parts. Next day all daylight swallowed up in
school and household ; evening, Dr. Francis. Next day, Mr.
Ripley absent, additional burden of boys ; evening, in bed
with headache ; Saturday morning, boys again, with cookery
added ; one hour after dinner at last gained, or rather snatched,
for the Alps. Anna Margaretta and the flowers most pleasing,
— the map a great help. Evening brought divinity student,
Mr. White, son of Judge White of Salem ; very gentlemanly,
with much literary culture ; been at Calcutta, Alexandria,
Grand Cairo, passed fourteen months in Europe. Sunday
morning took him to Lincoln ; brought in his place Dr. and
Mrs. Francis and their son, and Mrs. Locke with an impetu-
ous little curly-haired fellow three years old. The divinity
student so agreeable that we were glad of him for a second
night. William White, of Watertown, at tea, oozing out at
every pore for the slaves."

"Feb'y, 1845.

" You write to Mr. Ripley of the preaching in Switzer-
land. I am more and more convinced that the past is, as the
boys say, 'no go' for the pulpit, any more than abstractions.
The philosopher finds in its facts material for induction where-
with to verify the principles which lie at the foundation of
human society; but living, feeling, acting man must be seized
through the present. The past can affect him only when in
the cycle of human experience it stands by the side of the
present in similitude or contrast. Galilee and Jerusalem will
fill the mind when they are acted over again in Waltham or
Boston. I think the only efficient preachers (though not at
all to my taste) are those who lift up their voice and spare
not, in spite of public opinion, against licensed violations of
truth and right and mercy in Church and State. The lyceum
may enlighten the intellect and feed the imagination, but life
is the province of the pulpit. I believe you will think I have

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

1/9

usurped it; but when thoughts occur as I read your letter, I
naturally say them to you.

" Uncle George came, and a divinity student, Thomas Hill,*
a distinguished mathematician, such as nature turns out of
her mould only now and then. Talked of La Place's theory
of creation, and how they used to try to find the parallax of
fixed stars and did not succeed, and how they tried nowadays
and did succeed."

"April 22d, 1845.

"As to the theology of your last, I cannot reply to it,
because I have forg-otten the provocation that called it forth.
The charge of inconsistency I think I could disprove ; but I
will leave it for some brighter hour. I will only say that when
I was eighteen, my appetite for theol'ogy was so intense that
I learned German without the aid of grammar, and by means
of a dictionary with one French word and one Russian, —
because I thought the store-house of its treasures was there.
It was an era in my life when my father gave me leave to buy
a Griesbach, the dry critical preface to which was far more
exciting than any reading can ever be to me again. And now
I am so changed. Religion has become so simple a matter to
me, — a yearning after God, an earnest desire for the peace
that flows from the consciousness of union with him. It is
the last thought that floats through my mind as I sleep, the
first that comes when I wake. It forms the basis of my
present life, saddened by past experience. It bedims my eyes
with tears when I walk out into the beautiful nature, where
love is all around me. And yet no direct ray comes to my soul.
Perhaps it is God's peace instead of God I seek : so I sit and
wait in patience for his grace, and will still wait. Earnests
and foretastes come ; but humble waiting in days of darkness
will, I trust, bring better fruits. You say we shall fight. The

* The Rev. Dr. Hill, now of Portland, Maine, — late president of Harvard
College.

!8o WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

war will, I think, be one of words. Yet how can we look at
things alike? You must increase, but 1 must decrease; you
are just entering the fullness of being, I have proved and found
it vain. I intended to have filled this page with other matters,
but to-night I do not feel like talking about persons and things;
to-morrow we will meet perhaps in the phenomenal world.
April 23^. — I feel half inclined to draw my pen over last
night's page : an experience seems untrue as soon as uttered.
Both seeking truth, we shall beckon each other onward to the
same centre, if by different paths. And now for details. To
begin with the parish, the first act of the new administration
was to secure Mr. Hedge for the month of April. It is fine,
you will know, for us to have him with us every Saturday
night and Sunday. Parish affairs bring me to Mr. Ripley,
who has had a long reprieve from his enemy in the foot, but
on whose forehead eighteen months have left many a wrinkle
and gray hair. Mr. Hedge remarks that he looks careworn,
much changed to him; no wonder, for his days are a constant
fight. Oh, if we ever live to see these seven great boys into
college ! He warms up with pleasure whenever you are men-
tioned, and especially whenever you mention him. . . .
Mother, I believe, has won Lizzy's heart from me, but I am
not jealous : I ask nothing from the young ones but that they
should be good and happy. Ezra is still exemplary for dili-
gence and economy. He is to appear on the stage in a Greek
dialogue the coming May exhibition. The girls are intolerant
of what they call his self-conceit ; they cannot stand the air
with which he swings his cane and shakes his hair away from
his eyes ; but I am his firm ally. They may smile and jeer,
but he has the satisfaction of an innocent life and virtuous
industry."

"May I3th, 1845.

" My chances to write are few, for you know at this season
my day is devoted to boys ; and mother and Charles, who are
with us now, monopolize the evening by their agreeable con-
versation. Besides, the trees are all bursting into life and

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. jgi

beauty, and the moon is just entering her second quarter, and
for the last two days the thermometer has stood at 80° : so
of course we are under the trees and on the stone wall all
the play-time. ... A voice from below summoned me to
welcome Mr. Hedge, whom Mr. R. brought with him from
the association. The evening conversation easy and genial,
springing from friendship without a shade of distrust. I say,
with Horace, ' nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico!

" I have no private scholars, and so spend my days in the
noisy school-room, aiding Mr. Ripley and ripening my plans
of life for Concord. I went to see Dr. Gray the other day,
and he showed me a splendid microscope mounted like a
telescope, and some very pretty phenomena of crystals seen
by polarized light ; and told me of a beautiful work on Euro-
pean mosses, with magnified engravings, just received at the
Cambridge Library, and that I should have it next after him-
self."

"June 22d.

" The books that I have, speak most respectfully of German
lichenologists and muscologists. If you find any treatise on
these commoners of nature, get it for me. — It is a delightful
summer day, the lawn covered with hay-cocks. We are
spending it alone. We looked out for George, Charles, and
Gore till bedtime, but in vain: we must eat our cherries which
the girls picked amidst the wet leaves, without them. The
great cherry-pie, too, on which I expended my strength and
sugar, they will not taste, — that is, if the noon train do not
bring them. 25th. — The noon train brought the youths; the
evening, Uncle George. We had music, the piano with ac-
companiment on the flute, plenty of cherries and plenty of
wit. G. and C. act on each other magnetically, as they say
nowadays. C. described with all his powers of satire the
style of debate at the abolition meetings he attended on elec-
tion week, with an evident undercurrent of delicate respect
for the state of mind of the debaters. At last they got upon

1 82 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the White Mountains, so fertile a source of travelers' diffi-
culties and dangers. But who can tell of the seasoning of
successful jokes and amusing anecdotes ! You know the
genial times when each loses himself in the free spontaneous
flow of thought and fancy. We work hard, to be sure, but
1 noctes ccenczque deonnrf like these will offset much. The
other evening I met C. C, who told me ' a large man with a
carpet-bag had inquired the way to our house.' I hurried
home, and found Russell seated in the dark, in the parlor, with
Mr. R. We soon had a light, the box of mosses and lichens
and microscopes all, and he told me ever so much in answer
to the questions I had laid up to ask him. In my last visit to
Duxbury I had found a lichen composed almost altogether
of net-work. I searched in vain for a description of it, and
he tells me that it has not been described, and that Tuckerman
in his catalogue will call it Cladonia Rnssellii. We walked at
five o'clock this morning, and you would be well bored with
barbarous names, if I did not fear that these humble denizens
of the forest would stand but a poor chance against Neander
and the fine arts. Did I tell you about a beautiful scarlet-cup
mother and I picked up in a rich spot near the spring on
Prospect ? I could not tell whether it was fungus or lichen,
but my botanist decided for the first. He had not seen your
powdery lichen, and said they were all valuable on account
of their ' habitat.' Don't forget to pick more : there is no
knowing what you may do for science. Apropos of fungi, I
must quote Linnaeus's description of them, it is so poetic, —
and you are in a region where there is faith in the trinity of
Philosophy, Poetry, and Religion. He characterizes the little
fellows as ' nomades, autumnales, barbari, denudati, putridi,
voraces. Hi, Flora reducente plantas hiematum, legunt relictas
eamm quisquilias sordesque!

" Excuse, as before, all errors in spelling, and let the super-
abundance of letters in some words make up for the de-
ficiencies in others."

MRS. SAMUEL RIFLE Y. ^3

" Sunday morning, July 2Oth.

"Just returned from a walk with . He talked of the

religious state of several of his friends, those who assert and
feel the soul's want of a mediator, — that it cannot be saved
but by Christ ; he disposed to consider it not an accidental but
a genuine part of the religious history of the soul, I not en-
tirely assenting. Whenever we talk together, you come natu-
rally to my mind. Believing in your truth as I do, I cannot
but look with interest to the development of your religious
thought, in relation to your intellectual experience in its other
aspects. . . . The intellect is so apt to run across the path of
religious thought, or rather of Christian theory, and to shroud
its aberrations in a mist of mysticism or untruth, imposing
on itself or others, and the bias is so strong on the side of
the position which we have taken in life, or into which we
have been drawn, that I am apt to distrust appeals to intuitions
and ultimate facts, which do not reveal themselves to my dif-
ferently constituted mind. The road to the Father has always
seemed to me direct, and, though constantly forsaken, always
open, always shone upon by a light from above, — the guiding,
helping hand ever extended to the wanderer.

" Elizabeth has gone to Lowell to watch with Mrs. Ames's
sick child, a dear little creature about two years old, whose
case the physicians have pronounced incurable. . . . We
should be able to endure our own troubles, if it were not
for sympathy with others. Poor Margaret herself, with every-
thing about her to make her happy, is marked with the seal
of death. She seems to me like one of my own children, for
I had almost the whole care of her in her infancy. I was her
only teacher, she came with me to Waltham, and was married
at our house. Who can call life tame when it is so full of
wonder and sorrow and love ? . . . You realize that it was
wise not to have early entangled yourself in relations that
would have made your present impracticable. I once thought
a solitary life the true one, and, contrary to my theory, was
moved to give up the independence of an attic covered with
books for the responsibilities and perplexities of a parish and

1 84 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

a family. Yet I have never regretted the change. Though
I have suffered much, yet I have enjoyed much and learned
more. The affections as they multiply, spread out in rays to
the circumference, but the soul returns, not driven back by
desertion, but willingly, to its true centre, the God within.

"The time draws nigh when we are to look for mother.
The beans are growing finely, and we are looking forward to
the time when we shall gather and shell them together. She
will be with us at our commencement holidays, the brightest
days to us of all the year. I like your letters to mother much :
you tell her little things that transport us at once to the place
where you are : we meet the passengers on the road, carry
their bundles, and learn the secret of their life. We stroke
the rosy cheeks of the children as they prattle to you of the
flowers, and we think of Werther. Apropos of Werther, you
express astonishment that it should interest me. Remember
that I have come to the age when a piece of psychology in-
terests me as much as a new and curious subject for dissection
does the doctor. . . . Continue your laudable practice of gath-
ering and preserving specimens for your friends this side of
the ocean. The blue pond-weed is now in blossom, with many
an asclepias of divers hues. The large blue flowers of the
succory grace the corners of the road, and the spiraeas and
eupatoria are just about to unfold their blossoms. I am at
my usual seat on the benches under the locust-trees every
morning, listening also as usual to Horace and Virgil. This
morning I took the letters with me, to read and enjoy during
the intervals of the going and coming of the youth. William
L. takes an interest : so I read to him the story about the
peasant with the bundle, etc., that he might have something
to tell his mother, and explained to him what I thought were
the true objects of traveling. How much your interest in
the battle-marked fields must have been increased by having
so lately read Alison !

" I have just received a beautiful edition of a French work
on botany according to the present mode of analysis, from
Dr. Gray. As far as I have read, the author has introduced

MRS, SAMUEL RIPLEY, 185

me to nothing new, but yet there is great pleasure in getting
at the mind of a man of genius through his scientific method.
The way in which he holds up his subject and unfolds its
wonders to your view is always his own. The French are
remarkable in this line. Their mathematics and chemistry
and botany are well worth reading as specimens of genius."

" The twilight has closed in upon me, so I close the book,
the ' Samson Agonistes,' the noble poem, so classic in its form
that it transports you to the grove of the avenging deities in
front of Athens, while its holy music and exalted sentiment
descend from Zion's hill, or flow from Siloa's brook, ' fast by
the oracle of God.' . . .

" I recognize my obligations to Christianity as the chief
factor in the product of my present mind. The germ of in-
tuition lies buried in every soul ; the inspired man speaks, and
it responds. Watered in youth by the silent dews of his
divine utterances, warmed by his image or the faint reflection
of it in the lives of those we love and trust, holy intuitions
unfold in foliage, too often unconscious of the secret source
by which they live. A miracle in the popular sense my mind
rejects. Cannot we love and disagree ? I can not only love
but respect in you the different phases."

CHAPTER IV.

MR. SIMMONS returned from Europe in the autumn of 1845.
Very soon afterward he was married to Miss Mary Emerson
Ripley, Mrs. Ripley's second daughter.

In the spring of 1846 the Ripley family left behind them
the cares of parish and boarding-school, and removed to the
" Old Manse" in Concord, on the right bank of the Concord

1 86 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

River, and within sight of the spot where the first repulse was
given to the British troops in the war of our independence.
Their return was the event which caused the removal of Haw-
thorne, who had occupied the manse for a time after the death
of Mr. Ripley's father, the Rev. Dr. Ezra Ripley. Dr. Ripley
had lived there for more than sixty years, as the minister of
the town. The mother of Mr. Ripley, at the time of her
marriage to Dr. Ripley, was the widow of his predecessor,
the Rev. William Emerson, for whom the manse was built.
This lady was also the daughter of a former minister, Rev.
Daniel Bliss, and granddaughter and great-granddaughter
of the two Bulkeleys, still earlier pastors of the old town.
Thus the family came with every hereditary claim to the
respect and affection of their neighbors in Concord. The
presence of Mrs. Ripley's sister Mrs. Bartlett and her family
and the neighborhood of her kinsman Mr. Emerson, were a
great pleasure to her. Her youngest son, Ezra, was in his
senior year at Harvard College, and the two youngest girls
were at school in Boston. The elder children were busy else-
where with the tasks of life, but flitted in and out from time
to time with news of the world and of friends.

The simple but complete hospitality of the house was not
less than in Waltham, nor did " due feet ever fail" to seek the
blessed threshold where so cordial a welcome and such in-
spiring society awaited them. Mr. Ripley writes to his sister
at this time, " We have a quiet and industrious life in this
pleasant spot. I enjoy it more and more every day, and Sarah
is perfectly happy. She works hard all the time, but has
nothing to trouble or vex her." Gathering currants and
raspberries, or peas and asparagus, from the garden, or in the
house, cooking, dusting, or mending, — her mind and heart
were free while her hands worked ; and her friends were at
liberty to follow her in household tasks of which she never
made any secret or any boast. It was in this way that she
simplified very much the problems of social intercourse and
hospitality.

She still received scholars, one or two at a time, — but not as

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY, 187

members of her family, — to fit for college, or to carry them on
in advanced studies when exiled for a season from college for
idleness or misdemeanor. It may have been the desire or the
necessity of teaching others that drew her to the study of
mathematics and the exact sciences, of which we find little
mention in her early letters ; but it is certain that she was a
capable and inspiring teacher of these subjects, and sent her
youths back to college with new insight and inspiration, and
fit to take their places in the higher classes.

On the evening of the 24th November, 1847, tne family
circle was gathering for the next day's Thanksgiving festival.
It was dark and stormy. The father had gone for the third
time with his carriage to bring the last installment of children
and kindred from the railroad, when he suddenly fell back in
the carriage upon the shoulder of his eldest daughter, and
never spoke again. " His own affectionate heart," said Mrs.
Ripley, " was spared the pain of parting."

The following letter to Mrs. Ripley from Mr. Emerson,
then in England, will show what a cordial affection her hus-
band had inspired in his friends :

MR. K. W. EMERSON TO MRS. RIPLEY.

" MANCHESTER, ENGLAND, 26th December, 1847.
" MY DEAR FRIEND, —

" I heard with surprise and grief of your loss, and the shock
with which it came, — the greatest loss to you and to all your
household, — without repair; the loss to me also of a dear old
friend, like whom I have now few or none. He was the hoop
that held us all staunch, with his sympathies of family and
with that disinterestedness which we have hardly witnessed in
any other person. What rare devotion to his friends! What
a cloud of witnesses I recall who will thankfully and affection-
ately press his claims to almost the first place among faithful
and efficient benefactors ! I may well say benefactor, for in
will and in act he was both early and late one of mine, — and
never otherwise. . . I know not where we shall find in a

1 88 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

man of his station and experience a heart so large, or a spirit
so blameless and of a childlike innocence. L. writes me very
truly of the ' opportunity' of his death at a moment and in an
act so characteristic. Yes, it is so; and yet he was never out
of character, and, at any time, would have been found in his
place. How sad it is, and will be ! He had reached his
chosen place, and all things were taking happiest form and
order under his care. 'Tis sorrowful that such a felicity should
be broken up, and that you should be forced now to recon-
struct your home. But he has not withdrawn far. He has
identified himself so much with life and the living that we
shall find him everywhere a presence of good omen. My
love to Elizabeth, and Mary, and Gore, and to all the children.
He has stood by them until they were sufficient to themselves,
and has enjoyed their security and success. — And now that
he has gone who bound us by blood, I think we must draw a
little nearer together, for at this time of day we cannot afford
to spare any friends. I wonder to think — here, with the ocean
betwixt us — that I have suffered you to live so near me and
have not won from the weeks and months more frequent in-
tercourse. I hope L. has cheered you by communicating
her hearty affection for all she beheld in your husband To
my mother he is an irreparable loss. As I look homeward
now, I miss a friend who constituted much of its worth and
attraction for me. But I must write you again with more
hope.

" Most affectionately yours,

"WALDO E."

In 1852, Anne, the youngest but one of Mrs. Ripley's chi'-
dren, who had been married about three years before to Mr
George Loring, then of Concord, died in her mother's house,
where she was taken ill on a visit, leaving a little boy of less
than two years old to her mother's and sisters' care.

The next break in the circle was the death of her beloved
friend and son-in-law, Mr. Simmons,* who after leaving Wal-

* Of this brilliant and accomplished man bat little permanent record remains.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

189

tham had been settled successively in Springfield and Albany,
and who came home to die of consumption, in the house which
his mother had built, next to the " Old Manse." Mrs. Sim-
mons had been drawn thither from Boston by the friendship
which had grown up between the two mothers and their fam-
ilies. After his death his wife and children lived with Mrs.
Ripley in the manse, the declining health of the elder Mrs.
Simmons requiring quiet and freedom from the noisy life of
young children. In a few years Mrs. Simmons died. After
this the younger Mrs. Simmons removed to the house which
her children inherited from their grandmother. But this was
so near to the manse that it was hardly a separation. In the
year 1860 the youngest of these children, a beautiful girl of
five years, was taken away from the little group by death, —
another sorrow for that sympathizing heart which more than
ever lived in the life of her children. The death of Mrs.
Bartlett, the sister of Mrs. Ripley, soon followed. And then
came the war, which laid such a load upon the hearts of
parents, and of those who, loving their country as one, could
not be at peace while she was divided, or while other hearts
bled. Many of Mrs. Ripley's former pupils and the sons of
her friends and pupils, the flower of our youth, were in the
army. Her own youngest son, Ezra, was there, and died in
1863, on the Mississippi, near Vicksburg, in the service of the
Union, leaving a young wife tenderly loved by his family.

He graduated at Harvard College in 1832, and died in the summer of 1855.
He was first settled over the Unitarian Society at Mobile; but his conscience
moved him there to utterances upon the subject of slavery which were as coura-
geous as they were unwelcome, and he was forced to leave the city for fear of a
mob ; nor was this the only instance in which he bore brave testimony on this
subject. Three of his children survive, — two sons and a daughter, — children
that are worthy of him. During his last illness he selected a few sermons which
he desired should be privately printed as his latest gift to certain friends, and
wrote what he called a " Fragment of a Preface'' for the little book. These dis
courses, entitled "Six Sermons," and the words of singular beauty with whicV
they are prefaced, are a worthy but all too brief memorial, — thoughtful, devout,
and high-minded. " There is here," he truly says, " no conceit or hollow declama-
tion, but sincere thought, such as I am capable of; and the themes are large."

i pa

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

All these events and anxieties laid a most heavy burden
upon her loving and tender heart Her youngest daughter,
married* just before the beginning of the war, still remains,
however, " a star of hope," " a haven of rest," amid the sad
forebodings and sorrows of the times. The young pair settled
at Milton, and after a time assumed the care of the little or-
phan boy, their sister Annie's child, who had grown too old
to be left solely to feminine guidance; an arrangement for
which Mrs. Ripley's satisfaction and gratitude find continual
expression in her letters. With her daughter Mrs. Simmons at
the next door, the life of growing children was still a constant
spring of interest and hope. Elizabeth, the eldest daughter,
now the housekeeper of the manse, gave always the same
hospitable welcome to old and newer friends which had dis-
tinguished the Waltham home, and many were the cordial
gatherings that kept alive the social flame — where each
brought some contribution of fragrant wood or spice to cast
upon the fire. Visits to her daughter at Milton, and the
hopes and joys that came into her life with the birth of her
daughter's two boys, of whom the grandmamma now made
herself the playfellow, varied her life with scenes in which no
sad associations bore a part.

Among the letters belonging to the period following Mrs.
Ripley's removal to Concord, there are two or three to Mrs.
Francis which may be inserted here :

MRS. RIPLEY TO MRS. FRANCIS.

1849.

" I received, dear friend, your affectionate note and invita-
tion, but cannot accept, as I have engaged to prepare two
youths for college, and cannot leave them any day but Satur-
day. So, on some Saturday when baking and other cares do
not prevent, I shall see you, I hope. But why not come and

* To Mr. James B. Thayer, then a lawyer in Boston, now a professor in tha
Law School of Harvard University.

MRS. SAMUEL RIFLE Y. igi

see me ? I do wish you would. It seems so long since we
have walked and talked together, and compared notes of ex-
perience as we have been wont to do from earliest days. Your
form and face the first time I saw you are as vivid at this
moment as at that. How long a piece we have traveled to-
gether! Ere long we shall be called to set our houses in order
and go, we know not whither. But death is an event as natu-
ral as birth, and faith makes it as full of promise. But faith,
alas ! is denied to certain minds, and submission must take its
place. The Unknown, which lighted the morning of life, will
hallow and make serene its evening. Conscious or uncon-
scious, we shall rest in the lap of the Infinite."

"CONCORD, January 2lst, 1850.

" DEAR FRIEND, —

" I am grieved to learn that you are not in good spirits.
Now that you know where the seat of the evil is, why not
come to Concord to refit? Here is the solid day. ' Hie focus,
et tad(Z pingues, hie plurimiis ignis' — 'Sunt nobis mitia poma?
— ' Pocitla * * novo spumantia lacte! Come, let us have a
revival in friendship ; let us realize the dreams of our youth.
I know you will think your place at home cannot be sup-
plied ; but, dear Abba, this is the form the fiend takes when
the pressure of the responsibilities of life is breaking down
the conscientious, self-devoted spirit. The balance between
soul and body must be restored, if you would effectually
help those you love, and I know they must be ready to make
any sacrifices which your absence from home may require.
Come, not for days or weeks, but till the tabernacle of flesh is
in thorough repair. I cannot say how much I should enjoy
your presence, dear friend of my earliest and best days. Did
not your father then smile on our union ? Let us live for a
while in the past.

" Yours with undying love,

" S. A. R."

1 92 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

" CONCORD, October 28th, 1850.

"DEAR FRIEND, —

" The yearly offering of the Old Manse comes this year in
the shape of early apples, the russets not being in eating yet.
John L. Russell made me a visit yesterday with his microscope,
and showed me the internal structure of mosses and lichens.
I had seen engravings of the same before, but never the beau-
tiful and curious organization itself. How I wished you were
here, you, the one among many, who have eyes and ears for
such things ! Dearest friend, I hope we shall see you before
winter shuts us in ; ever welcome will your presence be to us."

A few letters to her sister-in-law, Mrs. Gamaliel Bradford,
and to her niece, the daughter of Mrs. Bradford, are here
added :

MRS. RIPLEY TO MRS. BRADFORD.

" CONCORD, Nov. 30th, 1854.
" DEAR SOPHIA, —

" Friendship is better than mince-pies : this is the text. The
subject is, that, friends being absent and money scarce, this is
the first Thanksgiving Day in my life for which we have pro-
vided neither turkey nor pie, and so I have time to tell you
how much I think of you. How could I help it on this day
consecrated to social festivities, when we have from olden
time enjoyed so much in mutual sympathies ? How many
times our hearts have beat with joy at the sight of such a
glorious sunshine as is now pouring in at my window, when
the carriage from Lowell and that from Concord were sure to
bring dear Margaret and Martha with their tribe, to meet the
friends who had arrived the night before! What a buzz of
voices! what a freedom from all constraint! Surely our family
union has been blessed, and on its remembrance we must live,
as link after link is broken in the chain which once held it
together. You vvill be glad to hear that Martna is welJ and

MRS. SAMUEL RIFLE Y.

193

expects her children. Sophy always dines with them. I was
so sad to hear that you had been sick again ; but those who
brought the tidings reported you better and cheerful. I have
lately received two letters from George, the first for several
months. Letters from Paris must have been lost in the Arctic,
as these are dated from Padua and Florence. When I come
to see you I will bring Phcebe's. ... I must leave you to dress
to go to the Emersons'. We are going four, — E., G., M., and
myself. I suppose we shall meet Dr. and Mrs. C. T. Jackson.
The doctor is agreeable to me, he has so much to tell that I
want to know. The Lorings have had the dear little boy for
three or four days, else we should take him with us. A few days
of absence makes me sad to think that perhaps the time may
come when I shall lose him altogether. What should I do
without him ! His little roots have crept into my whole life :
they could not be torn out without taking a great part with
them ; but we will not forebode. Every hour brings its blessing
as well as its sorrow. Dear Sophia, I could say much, but
have no time. Yours, with much love,

" SARAH."

" CONCORD, August 2ist, 1856.
" DEAR SOPHIA, —

" I thought you would like to hear about my Duxbury visit
We found them well. We rode to the beach one day, and
walked to the pond another. The music of past days sighs
through the pines. There was my Arcadia. How my heart
used to beat with joy when I caught the first glimpse of
the old church-spire as it appeared and re-appeared through
the woods when I used to be at father's side in the chaise
which went semi-annually or quarterly to carry grandfather
his dividends! The old house, with its high stone steps, the
barrels on each side filled with morning-glories and nastur-
tiums, which, entwined, hung in festoons over the old door;
the little parlor and old easy-chair in which we always found
the palsied old man, who received us with tearful embraces;

13

I94

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the great pear-tree at the gate, full of orange pears; the
ground strewed with golden high-tops ; the girl in the corn-
barn paring apples to dry ; the woods filled with huckleber-
ries;— how sadly they blend to connect the past with the
present and contrast with the future ! Why is it that we so
hold on to the garment that is falling from us, and look
behind as we go onward ? But enough of this. I was more
than ever impressed with the reality that we belong together,
this visit, than before. I hope you will never stay away from
us so long again. We had a letter from Gore* yesterday, re-
porting rather more comfortable circumstances, as his house
is finished ; but he has still to do his own house-work. I hope,
dear Sophia, you will not be sick again. Good-night, with
much love.

"S. A. R."

" DEAR SOPHIA, —

" Phcebe reports you not well. Do take care of yourself and
expel the cough. Hearing that you are not well reminds me
what it would be to lose your loving society. We have kept
step together through a long piece of road in the weary
journey of life: we have loved the same beings and wept
together over their graves. I have not your faith to con-
sole me, as they drop one after another from my side ; yet
my will, I trust, is in harmony with the divine order, and re-
signed where light is wanting. The sun looks brighter and
my home more tranquil as the evening of life draws near.
Would to heaven that the lives of the dear ones that remain
could be insured to me till its end ! Then I could fold my
hands in perfect peace, ready, if such is the law of finite ex-
istence, to breathe the last breath of consciousness into the
infinite source of light and love whence it came.

" You cannot think how much I expect to enjoy a visit from
you, now that I am a spare hand and so have plenty of leisure

* He had recently gone to Minnesota.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

195

to walk and talk and sympathize with those with whom I have
gone hand in hand through so many years of joy and sorrow.
... If you are not well enough to come soon, I am all ready
to come to you ; I can come any day, but it would be so much
more to me to have you here. Don't talk about the house
being full; it is Mary's life to keep it full, and no one would
enjoy a visit from you and Sarah more or so much as Mary.
Dear sister, do come, if you can ; if not, I will come to you."

" DEAR SOPHIA, —

" Can there be a possible chance that I may never look
upon your dear face again ? Am I to stand on the declivity
of life, while one after another drops from my side of those
who have been so long parts of myself? You are the vision
of my nights ; you appear to me for the first time in the little
parlor of the house in South Street, a graceful and bright
being of sixteen or seventeen, with a becoming straw hat and
a most agreeable smile. I still see the corner of the room
where you sat, though I see nothing else connected with the
visit. Then the scene changes to your uncle Blake's, where
I found you one morning practicing on the guitar before the
family had arisen from their beds. After your closer connec-
tion with us as a family, our interviews so crowd together in
the background of the past that I am kept awake as if solving
a mathematical problem to arrange them in their proper time
and place as they press in confusion upon the scene. How
much we enjoyed those evening rides to Cambridge, to the
house you had planned and built, where we forgot, for an hour
or two, the school bondage of home ! How much you did to
soften the pillow of decline and death for the father I loved
and respected so much! How can I recall or arrange the
happy meetings we have had together as a family in Waltham
or Lowell ! How much you were to dear Margaret ! How
much Martha has always enjoyed, and still enjoys, your society!
Do you wonder that I should desire to see you now ? Still, I

196 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

should not be willing to see you at the risk of exciting and
doing you harm. So I will try to content myself with thinking
of you with hope when I can. But sorrow, not hope, is the

color of old age.

" Your Sister."

MRS. RIPLEY TO HER NIECE MISS SARAH H. BRADFORD.

[1860.]

" DEAR SARAH, —

" Crowned with the modish cap you were so kind as to send
me, I shall not be afraid to take a seat at your conservative
dinner-table, as a citizen of the rebellious town where the first
blood was spilt in the Revolutionary War. There is no need
of Christmas-presents to keep bright the chain which binds
me to you all. Your last visit left behind a flavor which will
not soon pass away.

" Tell your mother how much I thought of her on the day
of Mrs. Simmons's funeral. It was a consecrated hour. The
bright sun shone through the large window in the little parlor
where we have together sympathized in joy and sorrow. No
discordant element was mingled in the little circle which had
loved and served her. Mr. Clarke said to Elizabeth when he
took the chair by her side, ' Your mother is gone : you have
been a daughter to her.' Mr. Clarke said not a word too
much. He has known her long and intimately, her sons were
in college with him, and she was one of the first who joined
his free church. He has visited her often since she has been
in Concord. I cannot tell your mother in this note what I
want to say, and can give you no idea of our love and desire
to see your face among us all again."

In April, 1861, Mrs. Ripley's youngest daughter was married
to Mr. James B. Thayer. I am indebted to Mr. Thayer for
the following sketch of Mrs. Ripley as she appeared in her
later years :

" My acquaintance with Mrs. Ripley was confined to the

AfRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

197

last ten or twelve years of her life. I first spoke with her in
1855 : it was at her own house, where I was a chance visitor;
and I shall never forget the simple cordiality of her reception
and her conversation. It was nearly four years before I saw
her again, and then I came to her house as one who was to
be her son-in-law. From that time until her death I had an
intercourse with her of increasing intimacy and affection. A
person of a more sweet, sympathetic, and feminine character
I never saw; she was the very soul of gentleness. And with
these special womanly charms, she had a masculine strength
of understanding. So vivacious and penetrating was her intel-
ligence, such wit, such learning had she, and such a cordial,
wide hospitality of thought, that one came to her not merely
for the most kind sympathy that she always gave, but for that
total intercourse of thought and sentiment which is the high-
est and most blessed thing that can take place between two
human beings. To sit with her through a long morning in her
little sunny parlor, or to walk with her on an autumn day
under the yellow light of the maples and talk of the subjects
that most engaged her kindly and elevated spirit, was perfect
happiness. In her sweet presence it was always 'a season of
calm weather ;' cares fell away, and the intellect, in that beau-
tiful atmosphere, had sight of great and animating thoughts.

" But all this tells little that can help a stranger to any pre-
cise knowledge of her. How shall one convey to a person
that did not know her some more definite impression?

" In her bearing there was nothing of the woman of society ;
all was peculiarly plain and simple ; and yet nothing could
have improved it. She was spare of figure and rather tall.
Her head was of a beautiful shape, and its comely, ample hair,
once of a dark brown, but early turned gray, was partially
covered with a cap. Her complexion was fair, and her face
full of healthy color ; her eyes were clear blue, and of a won-
derful quickness of movement, of a good size and rather near
together ; her nose was regular in shape, straight, prominent,
and handsome ; her mouth large, but delicate and full of sen-
sibility. As to the total expression of the face, it was most

198 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

attractive, — brimful of sense, character, and swift intelligence ;
but perhaps the chief charm of it, like that of her rich and
exquisite voice, was a certain delightful kindness. Her man-
ner, as I have indicated, was wholly unconventional, sim-
ple and friendly : without being precisely shy, she often gave
one the impression of an unobtrusive yet extreme solicitude
to be in nobody's way : it was the manner of one who wished
only for the pleasure of listening, and of quietly helping on
the comfort of others. But when she was sure of her com-
pany, how cheerfully and how fast she talked ! how respon-
sive she was to everything gay and animated, and how she
lost herself, so to speak, in the general soul ! Hers was no
meagre or starved nature, but a warm and cordial one.

" But when I speak of her ' helping on' the happiness of
others, I am reminded of the absence of what might seem
like an effort to help on anything. All things came from
her as the untroubled outflow of a sweet nature ; it seemed
that she could never proceed by the methods of labor and
discipline. And yet, when one stopped to consider how la-
borious her life had been, how dedicated to her household
and to her husband's school and parish, one saw embodied
in these quiet ways the result of a life full of self-denial and
steadily conformed to the law of duty.

"As to her habits of life, her letters will show how frugal
they were. Neither Mrs. Ripley nor her husband had in-
herited any property which contributed to their support, and
they had supplemented the small salary of a country minister
by the income of their boarding-school. In this way a modest
property had been laid by, which was the chief support of the
family after moving to Concord; but the comfort of Mrs.
Ripley during her later years was materially increased by the
gifts, as thoughtful as they were generous, of her friend Miss
Elizabeth Joy, of Waltham. For eight years after the family
moved to Concord Mrs. Ripley had no servant ; and during
three of these years, while her youngest daughter went daily
to a school in Boston, she rose and had her breakfast ready
by half-past five o'clock in the morning.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

199

" When I first knew Mrs. Ripley, Mrs. Simmons, her well-
loved daughter Mary, whose husband had died in 1855, was
at the head of the house, and Mrs. Ripley had finally given
up the management of it. She was then no longer taking
pupils. In the summer she used to occupy herself for a while
in the morning with the garden, gathering vegetables and pre-
paring them, or in other such light labor ; generally, at least
in the cooler weather, she took a long daily walk, even up to
the later periods of her life ; for the rest she betook herself to
the delights of her books, or helped in the care of the grand-
children whom she so fondly loved. If friends came in, they
were sure of a welcome and of the most friendly and earnest
conversation, whenever her health permitted. In general, her
health was good; she had a constitution which was naturally
strong and even tough; but at Waltham her severe labors had
sometimes prostrated her, and during her later years at Con-
cord she had one or two serious attacks of illness. At Walt-
ham, as her letters show, she used to sit up late into the
night, finding in these quiet hours the best, if not the only,
time for her own studies and correspondence and the family
sewing, — for she made all the children's clothes and did all
the mending of the family, including that of the hired man.
At Concord she went early to bed, but always waked early
in the morning. She ate generously from a simple but ad-
mirably provided table, and drank both coffee and tea ; nor
did she on occasion decline a glass of wine, although this
was never seen on her own table.

"Mr. Sanborn, Mr. Channing, and other friends kept her
largely supplied with the new books, and she read them
eagerly, especially some of the newer contributions to nat-
ural science : the writings of Darwin and his supporters she
cordially welcomed. She read few novels. Her letters show
how various her literary work had been during her earlier life.
She had been a student of metaphysics, but when I knew her
she seemed to have rested from her severer labors and turned
especially to literature ; she read at this time a good deal of
German, Italian, and French, as well as Latin and Greek;

200 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Spanish, also, she studied in her last years. Of Shakspeare
and Milton she read much ; of Goethe, Jean Paul, Rousseau,
and Cervantes she was very fond ; and so of Ariosto, of Eu-
ripides, of Theocritus, of Tacitus. Botany, and especially the
study of lichens, was a life-long interest, and she was curious
as to the habits of animals, especially birds. Her intense sym-
pathy for all living creatures was remarkable : and very pretty
it was to see her devotion to a neglected fowl or to watch her
on an autumn walk as she held some chilled butterfly and
brought it back to life by the warmth of that kindly hand.

" She used often to visit us at Milton, and once a year went
for a week or two to Duxbury. At Milton she always ex-
plored and re-explored my little library, and delighted in find-
ing now and then something that was new to her; I remem-
ber especially her satisfaction in Masson's Life of Milton. But
she never tired of her old authors, and often called on us to
share her pleasure in the great phrases of the Paradise Lost,
in the Life of Agricola, in an ode of Pindar, or in the fifteenth
idyll of Theocritus ; in this last poem, the lively and natural
gossip of the two Syracusan women was something of which
she never tired.

" But why do I not speak and what shall I not say of her
happiness in her grandchildren, and of theirs in her, both at
Concord and at Milton? She was so gentle with them, so
sympathetic, so. quick to understand them, and she entered so
heartily into their ways, that she became a sort of contem-
porary or even younger playmate. But she bred in them
unconsciously all the while a tenderness and sensibility akin
to her own ; like Wordsworth's sister, —

' She gave them eyes, she gave them ears,
And humble cares and delicate fears,
A heart the fountain of sweet tears,
And love and thought and joy.'

Alas that she could be no longer with them !

"At Concord she did not visit much, but was rather sought
after and visited by others, — her neighbors and her old pupils
and their parents or friends; on Thanksgiving Day, however,

MRS. SAMUEL RIFLE Y. 2OI

she used to dine, with all her family, at the house of her hus-
band's kinsman and her own dear friend, Mr. Emerson, and for
many years she passed every Sunday evening there. Among
the visitors to her own house were many strangers who had
found their way to see the ' Old Manse' that Hawthorne had
made famous: sometimes these visits were those of vulgar in-
trusion ; in such cases she knew how to protect herself by a
cold reserve ; for affectation or servility she had no response.

" She had great happiness in the cheerful and assiduous care
of her children, who appreciated and loved her with the ut-
most affection : upon their care she grew in later years to
be very dependent. It was a fine sight to witness the last
preparations for her going out upon a call, or her Sunday
evening walk to Mr. Emerson's, when her children took her
in hand, swiftly rejecting much that she had done, shaking
her up, and setting her to rights, — while, with laughing re-
monstrances, she yielded to the cheerful breeze.

" Had, then, this sweet and wise person no defects ? Of
faults I know not one ; but there were, perhaps, some limita-
tions of thought and sympathy. In general, she inquired little
and cared not much to concern herself about the conduct of
any social or public affairs; she would never read a newspaper ;
and she had little of the public spirit that gave so much char-
acter to the life of her contemporary, Mrs. Lyman, of North-
ampton, whose biography has lately been printed. An excep-
tion ought to be made in regard to the anti-slavery discussion,
in which she had great interest. The war, also, forced itself
most tragically upon her attention, and again and again it
bowed her down with sympathetic distress; for she had many
friends in the army on both sides, and her own youngest son
had entered on the side of the Union, at the beginning of the
contest, and died near Vicksburg, in 1863, worn out with labors
heroically assumed and heroically carried through.

"The reader of Mrs. Ripley's letters will see repeated allu-
sions to what she called, in reference to certain matters of
religion, a want of faith. Akin to this was another criticism
upon herself which I have heard her make, — that she lacked

202 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

somewhat of the faculty which appreciates the imaginative
aspects of nature.

"As to this last, she did not indeed seem — certainly while
I knew her — to care much to stop in the midst of her admira-
tions or to go back upon them, — to discriminate and bring
to light the particular objects or grounds of her liking. But
surely she had a very keen and special delight in nature, and
her undiscriminated happiness in it seemed worth far more
than any analyzed and self-recognized appreciation of the
critic : it was more like that of a healthy child, who is not
so much a spectator of nature as a sharer with it in a common
impulse and a common delight. She seemed, as she herself
says somewhere of one of her relatives, to belong to the land-
scape, and to be the companion and friend of the natural
objects among which she walked; so that when, during the
night after she was brought home to the ' Old Manse/ dead,
one of the tall ash-trees in the front avenue fell and in the
morning lay prostrate on the ground, — it was like a hint of
sympathy in nature: easy was it then, and to the imagination
neither trivial nor untrue, to think that this old neighbor had
felt the shock of grief.

" And something of the same sort is to be said as to the
religious side of Mrs. Ripley's character. In her youth she
had been deeply impressed on religious subjects, and had
thought and studied much about them ; but her mind, a keen
and analytic one, was displeased with the shallowness of much
that passes current; and found more difficulties also in ac-
cepting some of the best-received opinions than it could meet.
One might think, whether rightly or not, that she was too
much disposed to dwell on speculative difficulties; that she
undervalued certain historical and traditional aspects of the
question, or did not enough consider the necessary conditions
of all public and institutional religion ; that she was too un-
willing to entertain some great and ennobling, but unproved
and unprovable, beliefs, merely as being dear to the human
heart; that she lacked, perhaps, somewhat of the religious
imagination. Certainly her thoughtful, aspiring, eager spirit

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

203

was little disposed to follow along the ordinary lines of reli-
gious speculation or expression. But some of her letters will
show what a sweet and natural piety she cherished :* she had
thought too much and was too large-minded to dogmatize,
and so she always heartily sympathized with others in their
faith, and in their good hopes and expectations ; her own soul
was at peace, and rested, profoundly, in the conviction that all
is well. She was in harmony with whatsoever was most good,
most true, and most spiritual. If any noble object of human
aspiration or endeavor were brought to her attention, she
thrilled all through with sympathy for it ; if there were any
office of good will to be done, however humble and unwel-
come, she hastened to do it. And she seemed, always, as one
that ' lay in Abraham's bosom all the year.' "

A few out of many letters to her youngest daughter, Sophy,
will now be given. To this daughter are addressed most of
the latest letters, beginning with the date of her marriage and
residence in Milton, in April, 1861, and ending only when de-
clining strength denied the power of written expression to the
love whose flame was one with life.

MRS. RIPLEY TO HER DAUGHTER MRS. THAYER.

" DEAR SOPHY, —

" It is good to hear from you so often by your visitors
who report you well and happy. How could it be otherwise
having but one interest with a friend so worthy of his trust ?
I am living in the prospect of seeing you soon, but I am afraid
of the reaction when you go. I was so brave and disinterested
at first that I believed all selfishness was forever merged in the
thought of your pleasant and happy home. We hear of your
visitors still. It reminds me of our first experience of Con-
cord life. The weeks were marked by a constant series of
salutations and farewells. There is no danger even now that
the hinges of the doors will rust."

* See especially her letter to Mr. Simmons of April 22, 1845.

204

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

"DEAR SOPHY, —

" I cannot let Lizzie go to you empty-handed, though the
week's stockings from both houses are staring me in the face.
The asparagus bed, with its endless weeds, takes great part of
my mornings, but neither fruits, flowers, nor weeds can vie
with you. I am picking up some strength in the asparagus
bed, wrestling with the weeds. I charge you, as Dr. Allyn
did the old minister at his ordination, to set out an asparagus
bed. You can't think how little I know of what is going
on in the penetralia of the establishment. As I am relieved
from its duties, I am secure from its labors and vexations,
which I hope you have escaped forever, though there are al-
ways recruits enough in the march of life. May heaven send
you a niggard share and give you strength to wrestle with
them! If you have no more stumbling-blocks than how thick
to make flour starch, I fear you have not gone far in the march.

" I want all the family to see how pleasantly you are situated.
I do not remember particulars enough to be a satisfactory
narrator. It is sad to think that I am so fast becoming good
• for nothing for society, but, thank heaven, I led a lonely life
of study in my youth, and return to it as rest with satisfaction.
Thank heaven, the flowers still bloom, the birds sing, the
Greek tragedies have floated down the stream of time, I can
love and dream still of those who are dear to me, till absorbed
into the bosom of the Infinite from which I came.

" You do not know how much I miss you, not only when I
struggle in and out of my mortal envelopes, and pump my
nightly potation, and no longer pour into your sympathizing
ear my senile gossip ; but all the day I muse away, almost un-
conscious that I am a member still of this busy house, since
the sound of your voice no longer rouses me to sympathy with
your joys or sorrows."

"DEAR SOPHY, —

"You cannot know how much I miss your affectionate
demonstrations. At home my position is expected to be that
of the philosopher ; but, alas ! the expectation is rarely fulfilled.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

205

The tears of yesterday are nearly dried up, and I hope in
small domestic offices to fill up the days to come. Beans and
stockings will come in to aid, and then there is one bright
spot, — Lizzie Simmons will still hold on ; and you can imagine
how satisfactory it will be to listen to Tacitus, a pleasure con-
nected with days long gone by. Humble offices will while
away the longest day when devoted to love or duty, and the
prospect of seeing you will be like the star in the east, to
which I shall look like the shepherds of old. There is often
nowadays a solitude of the heart which nothing can fill ex-
cept your image ; but, as that is still encircled with a halo of
soft and sweet enjoyment, it ought to be as satisfactory at
least as the reality — that is, yourself — sweeping or sewing, for
the old house."

" G.'s letter of yesterday shows that he is disabused of his
first notion, — that the war is to be set down to some mistake
or mismanagement on the part of the President. It is strange
to hear him talk of joining the army. The Northern enthusi-
asm gives me a new idea of the love of country as an idea
realized. Who could have dreamed a year ago of political
cabals, private interests, ' hunkerdom,' as Carlyle would call
it, merged in one grand stream of men and money uniting to
preserve the Union ? I neither know nor care for politics in
any form, and yet I am drawn into the vortex."

[June, 1 86 1.]

" DEAR SOPHY, —

" The weekly bulletin due from my den will be delayed
till Monday on account of Ezra's patriotism. We received
a message from him that on Friday he should appear at the
Old Manse with his company, and should expect plenty of
lemonade and a hearty welcome. They marched up, as the
Fitchburg Railroad was not patriotic enough to bring them
gratis ; arrived about twelve o'clock at Concord Square, found

206 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

an entertainment provided for them gratis at the town hall, to
which the two families contributed cake and pies. Emma, as
usual, was ready with sandwiches and other dainties. After
the repast was cheering, and Ezra introduced John Garrison*
to them and explained his relation to Concord and himself,
and so John got an extra cheer. Then they moved to the Mon-
ument, followed, of course, by men, women, and children.
There George Brooks welcomed them with a patriotic address.
We went through the orchard and looked over the wall.
After the speech was over and a salute returned, they leaped
over the wall and marched through the high grass, through
the entry, and out of the front door, where they were treated
to plenty of lemonade. Then Ezra showed them the minia-
tures of the fathers and grandfathers of the Revolution, and,
after a tremendous noise which they called a military salute,
they turned their faces homeward, to march as far as Lexing-
ton, and ride from there to Boston. Ezra expressed his grati-
tude for the entertainment, and seemed not at all disposed to
give up his purpose. To me it seemed anything but a merry
meeting. I am no Spartan mother. — I am looking forward to
Phoebe's vacation. It is now the great event of the week to
look for her on Saturday. I have not had the sick headache
so much as usual since I gave up tea for wine, but I cannot
understand why I am available for so little in the way of walk-
ing or working as I was a year ago."

" We are sweeping and garnishing your room for Harriett
I look forward to her coming to mingle my tears with hers,
for it is heresy here to be sad about the war. How undevel-
oped a race must be that cannot settle its affairs except by
blood and murder! War seems to me no better than legalized

* A colored man, who had been for many years a servant of the family, and
who was a much-esteemed citizen of Concord,
f The wife of her son Ezra.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 207

murder But women do not know much, and their opinion
is only worth that much.

" I hope you will not be discouraged by hard times : the
hardest seem to me to be the loss of great and good men. I
am regarded at home as a regular ' croak.' "

" Harriet is spending the week with us. Her cheerful self-
sacrifice to Ezra's convictions raises her much in my esteem ;
he is her idol, and I shudder to think of the chances of war
in her behalf. He seems to have enough to do for his fellow-
beings, and to enjoy his work."

" Sept. — If anything can wake me from the nightmare of
war, it is a letter in your handwriting. I have just now es-
caped from my room, beneath the window of which the boys
are gathering grapes ; Will is in his dancing suit, as he makes
his debut in the art so important to the young man when he
is attracted into the magic circle of grace and beauty ; he has
resisted manfully, but is obliged to surrender at last ; he has
appeared in his best suit, but cannot resist a bite at the grapes,
notwithstanding many premonitory admonitions. We are act-
ually buried beneath pears and apples. We cannot find barrels
or baskets to receive them ; and our neighbors are in the same
predicament. I believe Lizzy begins to see her way through
them by her administrative and philanthropic skill.

" I can no longer aid the household labors by paring apples,
as my fingers have made a stand: so I withdraw my dimin-
ished head, and give myself up to study, — study, I say, for
ordinary reading soon ends in ennui or gaping. I am now in
close conflict with a Spanish singing girl, to whom I am often
obliged to nod instead of an answer. I was right glad to
know that you are shaking hands with your old friends again.
I would quote Cicero if I could do it correctly, ' Hcec stadia
juventutem delectant' etc., — but you can find the sentence.

208 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

How pleasant it must be for you that James's tendencies are
in the same direction ! I always count upon spurring up my
drowsing faculties by a visit at Milton."

" Things go on as usual. I am always anxious about events,
and make mountains out of mole-hills. Like the philosopher
in Rasselas, I shall imagine by and by that I have a responsi-
bility about the motions of the heavenly bodies. To drive
off hobgoblins I have taken to reading Spanish, and have de-
feated Belisarius and plunged into a real Spanish tale. What
a vista ! — a whole new language ! Mrs. Goodwin likes to hear
reading, so I read French novels to her and all the war mat-
ters, while she knits and sews for the soldiers, — and comfort
my conscience in that way for my shortcomings.

"This fearful, destructive war clouds my horizon, not so
much for what I have at stake as for what seem to me the
horrible results of massacre and pillage. I sit in my solitary
chamber 'and count the ghastly phantoms as they pass.' "

[Nov. 1 86 1.]

" A terrific night, rain pouring, windows rattling, but Lizzie
is up to all occasions, and I feel as safe under her patrol as if
it were a regular night-guard. Uncle George and Arly* still
cry hallelujah for the war, but such a sad tale as that of young
Putnamf and his desolate mother breaks my heart. Oh for
a lodge in some vast wilderness, far from the echo of human
sorrow ! I wish this sad topic had not darkened this page to
you, for the thought of you and your happy home is my star
by night. . . . Yesterday the boys set forth with their guns,
but it rained, and they returned to seek entertainment, quilt-
ing balls in my chamber. I contributed old stockings, and
they quilted each a ball, which destroyed two hours at least
of the enemy."

* The children's word for " Aunt Lizzie," — Miss Elizabeth Ripley.
f William Lowell Putnam, killed at Ball's Bluff, October 21, 1861.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 2OQ

" DEAR SOPHY, —

" I have just returned from my walk round the square this
splendid morning, and, now that I have recovered breath,
propose to devote the next hour to you. I was, or rather am,
afraid that you will think I have forgotten you after such a
blank in the line of correspondence ; but my army friends
have written me long letters, and they are far off and plead
earnestly for home news. Charles * especially writes long and
interesting letters, with ever and anon a flower or a weed un-
like what he has seen at home, and asks for its name or that
of its family. We shall soon lose Gore, and I am sad to think
how long it may be before I see him again."

" It is long since I have held converse with you, yet the
thought of you is my Ave and my Vigile, — with answering
letters from my army friends and mending stockings for both
houses, not to mention the additions to Gore's outfit for Min-
nesota. Yesterday I bade him a sad adieu, for age is naturally
foreboding. I cannot now imagine any errand which can
bring him home for many a day. He left us for Washington,
where he hopes to catch a glimpse of Charles. We get
letters almost every week from Charles or Ezra. E. says, in
his letter of Oct. 22d, ' Everything now looks like fighting
in good earnest. In addition to some fifty ships of war and
transports already in our harbor, to-day saw the arrival of
ten more steamboats loaded down with troops, making an ad-
dition of some ten thousand to the ten thousand here before.
And the busy signaling from ship to ship, the noise of the
steam as it is constantly kept up on board, the frequent shrill
whistle and the active plying of the tugs, all tell us that an
expedition is soon to start in earnest.'f

* Charles F. Simmons, then Adjutant-General of the Fourteenth Massachusetts
Regiment, stationed at Fort Albany near Washington.

f This was the expedition to Port Royal which sailed from Fortress Monroe,
at the end of October, 1861.

14

2io WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

" Did you see in the report of the last defeat the familiar
names of several of our old scholars and acquaintances ? I
am sad over the loss of lives of so much worth. They fill my
day and night dreams."

" Mrs. G. is coming to spend Sunday. 'Lizzie says we shall
not sympathize in our feeling toward England, for she is angry
and I am grieved. England is to me as a vindictive parent
to whom I owe so much that I could make almost any sacri-
fice. I have been from my earliest remembrance fed from her
table with the choicest dainties of literature and science. The
noble blood of her patriots and martyrs flows in my veins ; and
nothing that their descendants can do will cancel the debt.

" I am writing in my little den lighted by the midday sun,
which is shining brighter and brighter every day, foretelling
bursting blossoms and singing birds. I wonder if my first
experience of a morning in Concord can ever be repeated,
— the bright river which I welcomed as my own, the trees
covered with chattering blackbirds, good as rooks, the feeling
that I had at last a home. What a home indeed it has been to
me, which I would not exchange for all that wealth or art
have to offer !"

"This year with the war is to bring a new era in Christmas-
presents. The boys are to have their money and spend it as
they please. I think we shall be allowed to sleep quietly in
our beds till daylight at least. Yet I cannot but regret the
childish pleasure of unexpected surprises and noisy salutes,
and eager desires to see and show. Youth and manhood
have their joys likewise, but the spectre of distrust and dis-
appointment is too often in the rear.

" I am much obliged to James for the nice edition of the
Greek plays. We have not yet read these. They are much
better as to type than mine. Mr. Sanborn is still faithful to
Monday readings."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 211

" Charles has come from Detroit, with a cough and the re-
mains of intermittent fever, and is about to try a voyage to
some one of the West India islands, to escape our trying
spring. How glad I am that he can call this house his home
whenever he needs the affection and comforts of one! He
seems to me like a brother."

The reference in this letter is to Charles F. Simmons, the
brother of Mrs. Ripley's son-in-law, and the last survivor of
the family. Having entered the army, he had been obliged
to go to a Western State, and afterwards to the West Indies,
in search of health. The vessel in which he sailed — on Feb-
ruary 25, 1862, — was never heard from.*

In the next mention of this friend, she says, —
"There is a cloud over this house, for you know how long
it is since there has been any news of Charles. Will it not
be sad if the waves have closed over the last of this talented
and attractive family ? I can say, with King David, ' Very
pleasant hast thou been to me.' I shall never see his place
filled or look back on any like association."

[April, 1862.]

" Yesterday was Fast-day, and, to my surprise and delight,
Mr. Hedge came. It was so good to have him come of his
own accord. I never saw him look better; but it was sad that
I was the only one left to greet him, except E."

" May, 1862.

" This fine morning is sad for those of us who sympathize
with the friends of Henry Thoreau the philosopher and the
woodman. He had his reason to the last, and talked with his
friends pleasantly, and arranged his affairs, and at last passed
in quiet sleep from this state of duty and responsibility to that

* A sketch of Mr. Simmons is found in the first volume of the " Harvard
Memorial Biographies."

212 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

which is behind the veil. His funeral service is to be at the
church, and Mr. Emerson is to make an address.

" How pleasant it is to see the promise of the coming year !
The children are crazy as usual about anemones and violets,
and glasses are filled to a surfeit. They never look so pretty
as in their own first habitat, where nature has had the arranging
of them.

" I have had George Sand's autobiography, — to me well
worth reading."

" I went to the post-office, and when I got home I found
Dr. Francis on his annual visit. In the evening we were all
together in the red parlor, and there was much laughing and
talking of the young people. At last he fell back on me, as
I had toled him by the mention of Leibnitz which Mr. Hedge
has lately sent me, and into the depths of which I am about
to dive, for want of smaller fish nearer the surface.

" To-morrow is the last day of school, and Mary is to give
the girls a dancing-party, if she can get a violinist, as our old
one is too patriotic to play in war time."

" Last evening we took tea in the kitchen, Lizzy, M., and I.
It seemed like primeval days, when we turned our back upon
the boys and winged our way to Concord. Did not we revel
in freedom, and washing dishes?"

" Friendships which were the light of that dreary passage
of constant labor and homesick boys. But you do not like
to have me speak so of a home which health and freedom
made happy to you, and of petty trials which now seem to me
a cheap price for my Concord abode of freedom and rest for
what remains to me of life and hope."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

213

" E. is resolved that M. B. shall pronounce German right,
and will no doubt succeed, in spite of resistance. There is
nothing that I regret more than the want of that accomplish-
ment ; but self-education is not favorable thereto."

[Oct. or Nov., 1862.]

" Gore's communications are not very exhilarating. He
wishes he were in the army ; would be willing to go as a pri-
vate in Ezra's company, but feels obliged to stay where he is.
The Indians in the country where he is, have taken advantage
of the war to ravage the neighborhood. They have, he says,
murdered hundreds of women and children."

" Harriet sent us Ezra's last letter. He is stationed at Har-
per's Ferry, where the Fury laid the first egg of this dire war.
There seems to be quiet now, but all the interim is ' like a
phantasma or a hideous dream' to me. With what bright
sunny days nature shines on this blood-stained earth! I am
looking forward to your promised visit, and hope for a day or
two at least to look on a brighter side of things. I go as usual
one or two days in the week to reconnoitre Mary's stocking-
basket. She gets but little time to sew, and is glad of a lift.

" Lizzie Simmons with her Latin and Greek fills an hour or
so. I never nod in the presence of Homer and Tacitus.

" We have been reading a book of very interesting travels
in the interior of Africa, a subject in which I did not think I
ever could take any interest, but this traveling object was
natural science, and the stories of African life and manners we
have found very agreeable, besides having made acquaintance
with full-grown and baby gorillas, not to mention other sin-
gular animals as well as plants."

In these days, however, friends came and went, as of old.
She says, " Lizzy keeps the hinges of the old doors still bright.

214

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

I never could have believed that she would have made the old
house such a place of resort for such a variety of guests, and
assort them so well together."

" We did not expect our visitors, but Lizzy is inexhaustible
in resources ; her larder is never failing in dainties of some
sort and served with the best grace."

[January, 1863.]

" To see your dear image is next to seeing your dear self.
It does not quite come up to the mark, but it is very good,
and I shall treasure it among the other shadows of the beloved
ones from whose realities the waves of time are fast removing
me. I wish I could see your dear mother and yourself, but I
have no spirits left for visiting in these dreadful days of anxiety
and destruction. How generous Gam's contribution to Ezra
was! If he knew how much I thought of it, he would need
no thanks. ... I was alone all day at Milton the day of
Sidney Willard's funeral,* and sad indeed it was. We should
not mourn so, if lives did not seem thrown away by mis-
management and mistakes."

" MY DEAR SOPHY, —

" How kind you were to write me such an interesting ac-
count of your whereabout and what you were doing, at such
a busy time ! I know your energy and zeal for labor at home
and abroad. I must tell you about my present from Abby
Francis. She wrote to ask which of her father's books I
should like, as she wished me to have a choice. She has sent

* Sidney Willard, the son of old and valued friends of Mrs. Ripley, was
killed in battle at Fredericksburg, in December, 1862. He was Major of the
Thirty-fifth Massachusetts Regiment, and was in command of it at the time
of his death. A sketch of him is given in the first volume of the " Harvard
Memorial Biographies."

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

215

me an elegant set of Plato, with other valuable books. I
never dreamed of such a present. The old books on the
shelf have descended, and my eyes rest with such delight on
the visions of the immortal Greek that perchance I may
forget my mission in this modern world. If I dreamed of
the old inspired one, it was in a rusty garb, moth-eaten ; but
in such gilt and bright apparel I shall be unwilling to have
unconsecrated hands placed upon him.

" Orisons ascend daily for those nearer and dearer to whom
I am so much indebted. I have but one ardent wish, that I
may see the object of your care and kindness* worthy and
grateful for what you have done for him. The sun is so bright
that Davy's flowers are basking in it at my window. The little
orange-bush still puts forth new leaves. Ask him if he will
not some day refresh grandma's old eyes with a sight of his
handwriting. I hope he is a good boy.

" I read Fanny'sf letter this morning with much pleasure.
No one can know how dear she is to me. I hailed with great
joy her mother's advent, tended and watched over her feeble
childhood, and closed her eyes in death. Now I have nothing
to do but think of those who are gone. 'My brothers, where
are they ? and the prophets, do they live forever ?' But dear
ones still are left: if I could insure their happiness I would
ask for nothing more.

" Don't think I am sad beyond measure; far from it, in this
sunny room, with David's nursery of plants before my sunny
window, and in my mind his happy home. Sunday is no
longer a bugbear; I am not listening to hear what he is doing
or where he is wandering that he should not. I am sure I
can never repay James or yourself for making such a change
in his present environment and future prospects.

" Tell Davy his flowers flourish, and the little rose-bush, so
unwilling to yield to the sweet influences of the light from my

* David Loring, the son of her daughter Ann.

f The daughter of her sister Margaret, now Mrs. Francis Rowland, of Engle-
wood, New Jersey.

2i6 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

sunny window, has at last sent forth six new leaves, small, to
be sure, but precursors of future beauty.

" I hope he gives you no more trouble than the name boy
necessarily carries with it."

" I arrived home safely on Saturday, I cannot say with joy,
for the image of the dear little boy behind, and the long time
I might be without him, filled my mind. I hope he will not
forget me.

" Mr. Sanborn more than keeps us up in books. He brought
a story by De Foe, — ' Colonel Jack,' — the most melancholy
picture you can conceive of the suffering of poor neglected
beings, who beg or steal from their earliest years, know no
parents, sleep in glass-houses buried in warm ashes, have no
companions better off than themselves, and yet a vital spark
of principle innate, or rather sympathy, keeps them from utter
ruin.

" What should I do without books in these latter days ?
'Nam cetera neque temporum sunt neque cetatum omnium, neque
locorum. At hcec studia adolcscentiam alunt, senectutcm oblec-
lant, secundas res ornant, adversis perfugium ac solatium pr<z-
bent ; delectant domi, non impcdiunt foris, pernoctant nobiscum,
peregrinantur, rusticantur! So says Cicero, and I subscribe ;
and so will you, if you live to be old and feel lonely."

" You cannot think how I miss David in these bright days.
The other day at noon I looked out of the window and saw
the ridge of the barn covered entirely with a row of doves.
They seemed as if they had come to inquire for their old
master and ask why the usual treat of corn was no longer
there."

"Mr. Sanborn came to see me last night. He is faithful to
his old friends, and I look for Mr. Channing with a new book

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

217

every day. The Don still continues my chief resource. I
am far advanced in the third volume, and can read quite well,
— that is, to myself. I wish I knew how to pronounce it. I
am quite proud to add it to French and Italian, and have
some insight into the wit, which is considered so rare. It is
narrated in the life of Pope, that a gentleman was advised by
a nobleman to study the Spanish language, and when the
said gentleman reported his progress, instead of being ap-
pointed to some mission, as he expected, he received for his
answer that he envied him the pleasure of reading Don Quix-
ote in the original. Those who read to kill time are not sub-
jected to such disappointments.

" Mr. Sanborn announced his determination to give up his
school last night when he came to read with me. He is to
join Mr. Conway in editing a paper. We are all very sorry
to lose him."

There is no letter of Mrs. Ripley's which makes any
express reference to the death of her youngest son, Ezra, in
the war, in the summer of 1863. Painful as that event was
to her, she seemed to lose the thought of her own sorrow
in grieving over that of her daughter-in-law, childless and
now a widow. The body of her son was brought home, and
lies buried in the Concord cemetery.*

" I am looking forward in the hope of seeing Gore once
more, and imagining him in a happy home for the future. I
have but one hope left, — that I may not survive all who are
dear to me. I wish I could discuss with you divers questions
on the subject of Gore's wedding, f I think I shall go, when-
ever and wherever it is, though I risk taking cold, and brave
fashion in my apparel. Concord is awake, as usual at this

* A sketch of Ezra Ripley is given in the first volume of the " Harvard
Memorial Biographies."

f Mrs. Ripley's eldest son was married in December, 1863, to Mrs. Frances
Gage, of Boston.

2i8 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

period of the year. When Mr. Sanborn got up his school he
founded with it an institution for collecting together a shoal
of agreeable young ladies, who continue to convene together
at this season of the year, the train lessening as time passes
on, thinning their number by marriage or death.

" I should write a longer answer to your note, which I was
so glad to get this morning, if Mr. Channing had not brought
me an interesting book on the fructification of flowers by in-
sects, which I must read." ,

"D. is keeping up her lessons with Uncle George. Like all
bright girls when they first leave school, she feels the need of
something to fill up the gap between the past and present.
The desire soon dies out with most young ones, but it is good
to see it and foster it while it lasts, and there is always the
chance and hope that it may be lasting and decide the char-
acter for higher aims than fashion and frivolous amusement."

At the birth of Mrs. Bradford's grandson Gamaliel, the
sixth of that name in the direct line from Governor William
Bradford of the Plymouth Colony, Mrs. Ripley writes to her
sister-in-law :

MRS. RIPLEY TO MRS. BRADFORD.

[Oct. 1863.]

" DEAR SOPHIA, —

"Though it is Sunday morning, before church-time, I cannot
wait, my sympathy with you all is so earnest, to welcome the
dear little stranger. How proud you all must be that he has
hit the mark, and does not intend that the name of the first
emigrants for liberty and truth shall die out ! Nevertheless
he must remember his responsibilities, likewise, for a blot on
his escutcheon would be worse than no escutcheon at all. I
shall not live, perchance, to criticise the result, but send the

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

219

best wishes of an aged aunt, to those most interested in his
debut and future success. I hope we shall see you all again
under happier auspices than these dark days have been to me."

In February, 1866, a second son was born in the household
at Milton, and she writes to her daughter as follows :

MRS. RIPLEY TO MRS. THAYER.
" DEAR SOPHY, —

" Many a time and oft I have been homesick for the dear
little boy, but I did not think his place would be so soon filled
by another, as good and pretty, no doubt, but not the one we
know and love. How 1 wish I were not so old, that I cannot
help you take care of and comfort him when another has
taken his place ! I don't think, however, any one can take
his place in my heart. The new-comer is to take Ezra's name.
I long to see him. Ever so much hope and love from your
affectionate mother and to your dear husband."

At another time she writes, —

" Lizzy advises me to write to you this morning. The wind
is blowing so furiously that I dare not venture on a walk.
How I long to see the dear little boys together ! In spite of
predilections and disappointments as to sex, I love him al-
ready, and shall stand by him in spite of his dark locks. How
I count the hours till Concord is made rich to me by a sight
of the dear ones !"

In August, 1866, she made her last visit to Duxbury, the
home of her ancestors, and of dear friends and cousins still
living. She had been to Milton on the way, and wrote from
Duxbury to her son-in-law thus :

" DUXBURY, August i5th, 1866.
" DEAR JAMES, —

" I was delighted to see the face of the dear little boy and

220 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

to know that you are all safe at home and thriving. I found
the friends all well at Old Colony, and was received with a
hearty welcome. Everything looks bright and flourishing.
The early apples are fit for baking, and the odor of the pine-
cones sweet as in former days. I took a walk in the pine
grove near the cemetery yesterday morning, and crept down
the hill into a deep ravine we used to call the bowl, covered
with decayed leaves, where we used to play tea with acorns
for fairy cups : the acorns and the cups remain, but the charm
is gone, never to return. Nevertheless love and friendship
still remain, and will as long as the heart beats and those
that look out of the windows are not utterly darkened. I
hope to see you all before long, when I hope I shall be quite
well, and able to help you, or rather Sophy, in the care of the
little ones. I begin to miss Phcebe and David, and hope
soon to be at home to hear their story at first and not at
second-hand. Sarah Ellison is still at Duxbury. I have
made no visits as yet ; the old folks are all gone, and the
young ones ' know not Joseph,' but the dream of the past
comes up with sweet odor, and will as long as life shall last.
" Your affectionate mother,

" S. A. R."

Early in 1867 she began to write to her little grandson,
Willy, then three years old, but had written only a few lines
when she changed the address. The letter is as follows :

" How we will run about and pick the fresh flowers, and
Gamma will tell you their names and put them in the glass
vases ! Now the fair days are coming, I think we shall like
the flowers in the field better than those in the garden ; but
both are beautiful in their time. If grandma wants a garden,
you will be willing to help her, like a kind little boy. — Dear
James and Sophy, I hope to be with you before long and
finish this romance which has given me such pleasure. You
cannot think how much I have enjoyed in my childish com-
positions : they have helped off and whiled away many a

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 221

weary hour. I am afraid I shall be very jealous when others
come to take their share.

**********

" Mary is an angel of promise, and makes me as happy as
any old worn-out being can expect to be.

**********

" Oh, how I count the days till the dear little fellows will
be here ! I have plans for their amusement. I hope they
will have a good time. Every day will bring a flower. How
pleasant it will be to be with you and the dear ones! I shall
live another life. I may be childish, but there are no limits
to love.

" Your affectionate mother,

" S. A. R."

And with these beautiful words, ends her last letter. Grad-
ually failing strength brought now a short eclipse. She re-
mained at Concord, in the house of her daughter Mary, and
there, in the arms of her children, in the summer of 1867,
she fell asleep. Of these last days her friend Mr. Sanborn
has beautifully said, "At length there came a time, after many
shocks to her health and her affections given by bereaving
age, when even such unselfish pleasures were denied to this
sweetest of human souls. He who drops or withdraws the
veil at the gates of mortal life was pleased to make her re-
moval hence after the joys of earth had ceased to touch her
with delight, and when the spectacle of her affliction recon-
ciled those about her to the interposition of death. She has
carried with her beyond these shores of anguish and doubt
the love of a thousand friends and the enduring record of
well-spent days."

Five of Mrs. Ripley's children survive her, — the three oldest
daughters, Elizabeth, Mary, and Phoebe; her oldest son, Chris-
topher Gore, — for many years a lawyer in Minnesota, and
chief justice of that State at the time of his retirement from
business ; and her youngest daughter, Sophia.

On the stone which marks Mrs. Ripley's grave in the beau-

222 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FJRST CENTURY.

tiful cemetery at Concord, her children placed an inscription
containing a part of the passage with which Tacitus ends his
Life of Agricola. It was a passage which was specially dear
to her: many of her friends will recall the fine glow of feel-
ing with which she has read or quoted it ; and to these it
will always be associated with her memory. I cannot better
close this imperfect sketch of her life than by giving the
whole of it : of no one was it ever more worthily spoken
than of her. The words inclosed in brackets are those which
are on her gravestone.

" Si quis piorum manibus locus ; si, ut sapientibus placet,
non cum corpore exstinguuntur magnae animae ; [placide
quiescas, nosque, domum tuam, ab infirmo desiderio et mulie-
bribus lamentis ad contemplationem virtutum tuarum voces,
quas neque lugeri neque plangi fas est: admiratione te potius,
temporalibus laudibus, et, si natura suppeditet, similitudine
decoremus.] Is verus honos, ea conjunctissimi cujusque pietas.
Id filiae quoque uxorique praeceperim, sic patris, sic mariti
memoriam venerari, ut omnia facta dictaque ejus secum revol-
vant ; famamque ac figuram animi magis quam corporis com-
plectantur: non quia intercedendum putem imaginibus, quae
marmore aut aere finguntur, sed ut vultus hominum, ita simu-
lacra vultus imbecilla ac mortalia sunt, forma mentis aeterna,
quam tenere et exprimere non per alienam materiam et artem,
sed tuis ipse moribus possis. Quidquid ex Agricola amavi-
mus, quidquid mirati sumus, manet mansurumque est in
animis hominum, in aeternitate temporum, fama rerum. Nam
multos veterum, velut inglorios et ignobiles oblivio obruet:
Agricola posteritati narratus et traditus superstes erit."

Out of a number of tender and appreciative notices of
Mrs. Ripley's death which were written at the time, it seems
well to add here one by Mr. R. W. Emerson, which has al-
ready been referred to, and another by Mr. Henry Lee, of
Boston, one of her old pupils, for whom she always cherished
a most cordial regard.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

223

Mr. Emerson's notice was printed in the Boston " Daily
Advertiser" of July 31, 1867, and is as follows:

" Died in Concord, Massachusetts, on the 26th of July, 1867,
Mrs. Sarah Alden Ripley, aged seventy-four years. The
death of this lady, widely known and beloved, will be sin-
cerely deplored by many persons scattered in distant parts of
the country, who have known her rare accomplishments and
the singular loveliness of her character. A lineal descendant of
the first governor of Plymouth Colony, she was happily born
and bred. Her father, Gamaliel Bradford, was a sea-captain
of marked ability, with heroic traits which old men will still
remember, and though a man of action yet adding a taste
for letters. Her brothers, younger than herself, were scholars,
but her own taste for study was even more decided. At a
time when perhaps no other young woman read Greek, she
acquired the language with ease and read Plato, — adding soon
the advantage of German commentators.

" After her marriage, when her husband, the well-known
clergyman of Waltham, received boys in his house to be fitted
for college, she assumed the advanced instruction in Greek
and Latin, and did not fail to turn it to account by extending
her studies in the literature of both languages. It soon hap-
pened that students from Cambridge were put under her
private instruction and oversight. If the young men shared
her delight in the book, she was interested at once to lead
them to higher steps and more difficult but not less engaging
authors, and they soon learned to prize the new world of
thought and history thus opened. Her best pupils became
her lasting friends. She became one of the best Greek
scholars in the country, and continued, in her latest years, the
habit of reading Homer, the tragedians, and Plato. But her
studies took a wide range in mathematics, in natural philoso-
phy, in psychology, in theology, as well as in ancient and
modern literature. She had always a keen ear open to what-
ever new facts astronomy, chemistry, or the theories of light
and heat had to furnish. Any knowledge, all knowledge, was

224 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

welcome. Her stores increased day by day. She was abso-
lutely without pedantry. Nobody ever heard of her learning
until a necessity came for its use, and then nothing could be
more simple than her solution of the problem proposed to
her. The most intellectual gladly conversed with one whose
knowledge, however rich and varied, was always with her
only the means of new acquisition. Meantime, her mind was
purely receptive. She had no ambition to propound a theory,
or to write her own name on any book, or plant, or opinion.
Her delight in books was not tainted by any wish to shine,
or any appetite for praise or influence. She seldom and un-
willingly used a pen, and only for necessity or affection.

" But this wide and successful study was, during all the
hours of middle life, only the work of hours stolen from sleep,
or was combined with some household task which occupied
the hands and left the eyes free. She was faithful to all the
duties of wife and mother in a well-ordered and eminently
hospitable household, wherein she was dearly loved, and where

' her heart
Life's lowliest duties on itself did lay.'

She was not only the most amiable, but the tenderest of
women, wholly sincere, thoughtful for others, and, though
careless of appearances, submitting with docility to the better
arrangements with which her children or friends insisted on
supplementing her own negligence of dress ; for her own part
indulging her children in the greatest freedom, assured that
their own reflection, as it opened, would supply all needed
checks. She was absolutely without appetite for luxury, or
display, or praise, or influence, with entire indifference to
trifles. Not long before her marriage, one of her intimate
friends in the city, whose family were removing, proposed to
her to go with her to the new house, and, taking some articles
in her own hand, by way of trial artfully put into her hand a
broom, whilst she kept her in free conversation on some spec-
ulative points, and this she faithfully carried across Boston
Common, from Summer Street to Hancock Street, without
hesitation or remark.

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY.

22$

" Though entirely domestic in her habit and inclination, she
was everywhere a welcome visitor, and a favorite of society,
when she rarely entered it. The elegance of her tastes recom-
mended her to the elegant, who were swift to distinguish her
as they found her simple manners faultless. With her singular
simplicity and purity, such as society could not spoil, nor
much affect, she was only entertained by it, and really went
into it as children into a theatre, — to be diverted, — while her
ready sympathy enjoyed whatever beauty of person, manners,
or ornament it had to show. If there was conversation, if
there were thought or learning, her interest was commanded,
and she gave herself up to the happiness of the hour.

" As she advanced in life, her personal beauty, not remarked
in youth, drew the notice of all, and age brought no fault but
the brief decay and eclipse of her intellectual powers."

The following article, by Mr. Lee, appeared in the Boston
" Evening Transcript" of August 8, 1867 :

" The following tribute comes from one who speaks from
experiences which he treasures in his memory as among the
richest blessings of his life. There are many with like grate-
ful remembrances who will respond with all their hearts to his
every word, and thank him for giving expression to their
esteem and love for one who, whilst she was their teacher,
was also the truest and kindest of friends, — almost a mother
in the gentleness of her disinterested devotion to their best
welfare.

" ' Weep not ; she is not dead, but sleepeth.'

"And surely she needeth sleep; for if time is measured by
sensations, her life has been prolonged beyond the mortal
span ; if we consider the work accomplished, who has achieved
so much, for herself or for others ? or if we meditate upon the
Christian graces, the beatitudes of meekness, purity of heart,
the charity which suffereth long and is kind, vaunteth not
itself, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth in the
truth, whose character was more complete, whose spirit more
ready for its flight, than hers ?

15

226 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

" The wife of the minister of a large country parish whose
parochial labor she shared, the mother of a large family, the
mistress of a household increased by boarding scholars,
neither the heavy exactions of parishioners, nor importunate
maternal pains and anxieties, nor household economies faith-
fully attended to, exhausted her : she still found time and
strength to devote to two or three school-boys preparing for
college, or more advanced students rusticated for idleness or
academic misdemeanors. And what a wealth of learning and
thought and feeling she poured out for these pupils ! Illu-
mined by her clear intellect, the knottiest problem was dis-
entangled ; embellished by such a lover of learning, the driest
subject was made interesting. The veriest scapegrace was
reduced to thoughtfulness, the most hopeless dullard caught
a gleam of light ; her faith in their intuitions and capabilities
lifted them and shamed or encouraged them to efforts impos-
sible under another instructor ; for she did not merely impart
instruction, she educated all the powers of the mind and
heart. Many scholars now eminent can date their first glimpse
of the region above, their first venture upon the steep path,
to the loving enthusiasm, the cheering assurances, of this
inspired teacher and friend ; and they who fainted or strayed
without fulfilling her confident predictions must look back
with astonishment at this brilliant period of their lives and
regret that her influence could not have been extended over
a longer period.

" A mind alive to all the beauties of art and science and
nature, a heart which warmed to the most unpromising pupil
and kindled at the faintest ray of hope, naturally craved the
company of kindred men and women of learning and thought,
as they delighted in hers: this was Mrs. Ripley's true recrea-
tion after the toil and trouble of the day. And what pleasant
parties used to gather round her hospitable fireside ! what
ambrosial nights, fondly remembered by the privileged per-
sons who enjoyed them as actors or spectators ! There were,
probably, books she had not read, languages and sciences she
had not learned, but she seemed to have explored every region

MRS. SAMUEL RIPLEY. 22/

and to have intuitive ideas on every subject of interest. And
over all these gifts and acquirements was thrown a veil of
modesty so close that only by an impulse of sympathy or
enthusiasm was it ever withdrawn ; with a simplicity equally
amusing and touching, she impressed you so little with her
own wonderful powers, and referred so much to your sayings
and doings, that you really went away wondering at your own
brilliancy and doubting how much you had given, how much
received.

" The eloquent lips are silent, the flashing eye is dull, the
blush of modesty has faded from the cheek, the cordial smile
will never again on this earth welcome the friends, old or
young, humble or famous, neighbors or strangers, who sought
this inspired presence. But the puzzled brain is clear again,
the heavy heart joyful, immortal youth returned. With those
she loved on earth she is seeing face to face what she here
saw darkly.

" ' Learn the mystery of progression duly ;

Do not call each glorious change decay;

But know we only hold our treasures truly

When it seems as if they passed away.' "

ELIZABETH HOAR.

THE WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE IN
THE EARLY DAYS:

WHAT THEY WERE, AND WHAT THEY DID.

" Many hamlets sought I then,
Many farms of mountain men.
Rallying round a parish steeple
Nestle warm the highland people,
Coarse and boisterous, yet mild,
Strong as giant, slow as child."

IN looking for a New Hampshire woman, of the early days,
who shall furnish the subject of a biographical sketch to
stand as a type of the womanhood of the State, one is dis-
heartened at the outset by the extreme meagreness of the
record. Yet it is of these women of the early days that one is
most strongly moved to write, since they have left their mark
on the places and times in which they lived, as their descend-
ants have not had the opportunity, even if they had the ability,
to do. A few incidents, here and there, are all that can be
found, treasured up, for the most part, in the memories of the
older people; but these all tell the same story, and, taken
together, furnish an impressive picture of a group of faithful,
helpful wives, and devoted, often heroic, mothers.

These are, emphatically, the roles they played. The " spirit
of service" was never more fully developed. They seem to
have had a positive genius for self-sacrifice, and it is as they
impressed themselves on the children who came after them
that their biography is best written.

One who looks at all into the history of New Hampshire
cannot fail to notice how large a part of the fair fame of this

229

230 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

small State, derived as it is from the noticeably large number
of great men who have gone out from it, is a direct inheritance
from the mothers.

In the histories of New Hampshire one must read between
the lines to find the women. Indeed, it very soon becomes
impossible not to so read ; for when one finds that " every able-
bodied man in the town of Peterborough, New Hampshire, on
the ipth day of April, 1775, was at the rendezvous at ten
o'clock in the morning, with such arms as he might happen
to have [Tom McCoy had a flail, with which "to give the
Britishers a literal threshing"], ready to march to Lexington,"
one can but ask who was to do all the men's work, in this
land of toil, during their absence. Who, indeed, but the
women ?

The testimony of one who is an authority in matters of
New Hampshire history is that " none of the women were
conspicuous, and all were faithful." Perhaps, in these days,
one may be pardoned for thinking that the womanhood of a
State where none were " conspicuous" is sufficiently distin-
guished, without the crowning tribute that " all were faithful."
A daughter of the State, a little anxious, perhaps, for the
credit of these silent but heroic toilers, raises her voice to
remind us that "those are the best women of whom nothing
is reported." Judged by this standard the women of New
Hampshire were pre-eminent. Another one writes, — but this
is a scoffer, — "The chapter on the distinguished women of New
Hampshire is likely to resemble the celebrated chapter on the
snakes of Iceland : ' There are no snakes in Iceland' !"

Judge Fowler writes of them, " The women cast bullets for
their husbands, sons, or brothers to carry to Bunker Hill ; and
throughout the Revolution the women carried on the farms,
cut and hauled the wood, and 'kept the wolf from the door.'"
This last statement is emphasized by the record of the wife
of one Ebenezer Cobb, of Dublin, New Hampshire, who de-
fended her precious pig from the assault of a bear, by means
of a broom, with which she belabored the beast, calling for
help the while in a truly feminine and ladylike manner ; but —

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

231

let women not fail to testify — she drove the bear away before
help (men) arrived.

From this same Dublin the dauntless wife of William
Greenwood set out one morning in winter with a half-bushel
of corn, in a bag, over her shoulder, and walked on snow-shoes
through the woods, guided by marked trees, to Peterborough,
where the corn was ground, and whence she returned the
same day, — sixteen miles! It is of a native of this picturesque
and romantic part of the State that one has written, " to him
was natural the mountaineer's freedom of thought, and a hill-
side species of worship." It could hardly be otherwise with
people who dwelt, like these, under the very brow of " the
grand Monadnock," of which Starr King writes, "it would feel
prouder than Mont Blanc, or the frost-sheeted Chimborazo, or
the topmost spire of the Himalaya, if it could know that the
genius of Emerson had made it the noblest mountain in
literature."

" Ages are tliy days,

Thou grand affirmer of the present tense,
And type of permanence !
Firm ensign of the fatal Being,
Amid these coward shapes of joy and grief,
That will not bide the seeing !

" Hither we bring

Our insect miseries to the rocks;

And the whole flight, with pestering wing,

Vanish, and end their murmuring, —

Vanish beside these dedicated blocks,

Which who can tell what mason laid?

*********
"Complement of human kind,

Having us at vantage still,

Our sumptuous indigence,

O barren mound, thy plenties fill !

We fool and prate ;

Thou art silent and sedate."

Most highlanders will claim that their mountains have a
language of their own, teaching lessons understood fully only
by their own children. If the poet is right in his reading, it

232

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

may be truly said of the women of New Hampshire that they
early learned their lessons, and "by heart"

Dr. Holmes sums up the lessons learned of the hills, in this
wise :

" Dumb patience in trouble, persistent fortitude against ob-
stacles, the triumphant power of character, rooted in truth, over
the hardships of life and wrath of the world."

A worthy descendant of one of these well-taught moun-
taineers writes, " Both my grandmothers were heroines. I
think so because they lived in the wilds of New Hampshire
and were always loyal to their country and their. God."
"They lived in the wilds of New Hampshire!" One must
know what this means, to have any just appreciation of these
women. This was the land where the mercury fell to thirty-
odd degrees below zero, where a bucket of water, standing in
the chimney-corner, froze solid during the night, and where
the mothers of the great men of the future were wont to step
out of their beds of a morning into a picturesque little snow-
drift which had sifted in through the crevices of the log house
during the night. Here, also, withering frosts lasted into
June and began again in September. Life to the women of
New Hampshire in the early days, the mothers, often, of from
ten to twenty children, was one long self-sacrifice, often a
ceaseless struggle for existence, as for the preservation and,
mirabile dictn ! the education of their children. Who shall
say that they were not heroines, to live in such a land, in
such days, loyal to conscience and keeping alive always the
noblest aspirations for, not themselves, but their children ?
They were very old-fashioned in their notions, these women
of New Hampshire. They went away back to very old and
very high authority for their belief in the doctrine that he
who would be greatest should be the servant of all.

A well-known New England woman of distinguished men-
tal gifts, whose heart is as strong as her head, has said that
the only desire she ever had for the right to vote came from
an ambition to strengthen the hands of her husband. This
woman was born a hundred years too late. She belongs to

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

233

1776, with those women of New Hampshire whose whole
lives were passed in strengthening the hands of their men ;
forever in the background themselves, but sending to the
front sons worthy of the mothers that bore them. There was
no such thing as comfort for any of these people in these
days ; least of all for the mothers. The days were filled with
toil ; poverty stood always at the door, as well as occasional
Indians, — " that thorn in the flesh to the Puritan," as Mr.
Parkman says; wHd beasts of the forest were not strangers to
them ; accompanying all of which, and intensifying all forms
of hardship and suffering, was the dreadful, pitiless, almost
interminable cold. One sympathizes with Starr King when
writing of the White Mountain people, — those who had wan-
dered " into the more lonely aisles and the side chapels of
the grand cathedral district of New Hampshire," — he says :

" When there was so much land within the bounds of civil-
ization already unoccupied and unclaimed, what could have
induced families eighty years ago to move from a great dis-
tance in order to colonize the banks of the Ellis River, etc. ?
The very horses of the settlers on the Bartlett meadows in
1777 would not stay, but struck over the hills due south, in
the direction of Lee, from which they had been taken. They
all perished in the forest before the succeeding spring."

Mr. King's picture of Ethan Crawford and his wife Lucy
is so striking an illustration of what seems to have been the
mission of all New Hampshire women in the early days —
to rear or sustain men — that a part of it must be given
here.

" This Jotun of the mountains," Mr. King calls him, " whose
life furnishes most vivid suggestions of the closest tug of man
with nature, of rare courage and muscle against frost and gale,
granite and savageness."

He was a giant in point of size and strength, nearly seven
feet in height, and could lift five hundred weight into a boat,
carry home a live buck on his back, or catch a load of hay on
his shoulder, to save it from toppling over a precipice ; and
yet he was a helpless baby without his wife Lucy. A deli-

234 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

cate woman, but the source of all the moral strength of this
Hercules, Lucy's home at first was a rough log house, having
a stone chimney, " in which, during the cold spells of winter,
more than a cord of wood was burned in twenty-four hours."
" Ethan's life," says Mr. King, " was perpetually set in re-
markable contrasts. From struggles with wild-cats in the
forests of Cherry Mountain to the society of his patient, faith-
ful, pious wife, was a distance as wide as can be indicated on
the planet. Mount Washington looked down into his un-
couth domicile, and saw there

' Sparta's stoutness, Bethlehem's heart.'

" Lucy taught him how to meet calamity without despair
or repining. When his house burned down and left them no
property but one cheese and the milk of the cows, his wife,
though sick, was not despondent. When his debts pressed
heavy and he staggered under difficulties as he never did under
the heaviest load in the forest, she assured him that Provi-
dence had some wise purpose in their trouble. When his
crops were swept off and his meadows filled with sand by
freshets, Lucy's courage was not crushed. He knocked down
a swaggering bully once on a muster-field in Lancaster, and
was obliged to promise Lucy that he would never give way
to an angry passion again. When death invaded their house-
hold and his own powerful frame was so shaken by disease and
pain that a flash of lightning, as he said, seemed to run from
his spine to the ends of his hair, his wife's religious patience
and trust proved an undrainable cordial. And after he be-
came weakened by sickness, if he stayed out long after dark
Lucy would take a lantern and go into the woods to search
for him. He was put into jail, at last, for debt, as was the
barbarous custom in those days in other States besides New
Hampshire. Lucy wrote a pleading letter to his chief creditor,
but without effect. ' This/ said Ethan, ' forced me, in the jail,
to reflect on human nature, and it overcame me so that I was
obliged to call for the advice of a physician and a nurse.' "

It is evident that Lucy was not at hand now !

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

235

" Other forms of adversity befell him, and he left the plateau
at the base of Mount Washington, at last, accompanied by
Lucy, whose faith did not allow her to murmur."

We are told that this tamer of wild beasts had an absolute
passion for flowers, and that he liked to collect " the rare
Alpine plants from the snowy edges of the ravines on the
ridge, where, he used to say, nature had put them ' according
to their merits.' "

Is this the influence of the refining hand of Lucy ? Or is
not, rather, the selection of Lucy — herself a typical Alpine
plant, with her sweet purity, combined with a pleasant whole-
someness and stoutness of heart which fears not winter
weather, and which comes of being rooted on a rock — a
proof that this vein of tenderness was inherent ?

There might have been seen in some of the New Hamp-
shire farm-houses, even within the memory of this generation,
a few lingering representatives of the heroic women of the
early days, or those upon whom their mantles had fallen. A
certain fine scorn of physical comfort, together with a lofty
but patient toleration of their men, to whom they considered
indulgence as " natural," always characterized them, together
with great reverence for the Almighty, for " his word" and for
the works of his hand, as became dwellers among the ever-
lasting hills, and — perhaps the most distinguishing trait of all,
when one remembers the surroundings — an intense, undying
respect, a positive hunger and thirst, for education.

They " took comfort" — poor creatures ! they had to take
it by force, as they obtained everything else — in overcoming
all obstacles presented by fate, or overworked and discouraged
husbands, in the way of sending the boys to school and to
college. One boy, at least, must go. They begged and en-
treated, and finally insisted upon the privilege of having a little
less food, a little more work, a little less clothing (in that cli-
mate !), that the boys might have an education. Can we un-
derstand a little, now, why there were giants in those days ?
These are some of the sons, — Wentworth, Langdon, Stark,
Cilley, Jeremiah Smith, the Sullivans, the Bells, the Masons,

236 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Daniel Webster and his brother, Cass, Chase, the great Dr.
Amos Twitchell (leading a secluded life, but whom Dr.
Bowditch calls " one of the most exalted members of my
profession :" " an aboriginal Christian" he names him), Amos
Kendall, the Bartletts, Horace Greeley, the saintly Peabodys,
and the poet Bryant. Many more there are, " Verily by
their fruits ye shall know them."

There was nobody to write about these women. The pen
was not mightier than the sword just then and there : indeed,
the picture of a woman in the act of writing a neat little
account of her own heroism would hardly move one, even
now, when greatness seems, somehow, inseparably connected
with a pen, as contrasted with another, sitting at that restless
spinning-wheel, with resolute eyes fixed on the long thread,
and feeling that, within her, which transforms it into a mighty
cable strong enough to lift her boy to almost any height
among the great and the good. It is not the lack of heroic
women among the rocks and forests of New Hampshire,
which makes it so hard to find one of whom to write a bio«-
graphy, but it is much like the search for the native " May
flower." One must go over rough roads, on to barren hill-
sides, through snow and ice perhaps, to a poverty of soil
where nothing else will consent to live, and there they are
indeed, but held to their places by a stem tough as a relentless
purpose, and one has to turn over hundreds of ugly brown
leaves to hunt them out of their hiding-places, where they are
content forever to abide, filling the pine woods with what a
child of New Hampshire might perhaps be allowed to call "an
odor of sanctity."

It is true that there were living at Portsmouth, even one
hundred years ago, many distinguished and elegant people.
They were surpassed by none of their compatriots in their
devotion, or in the value of their service to the country. The
beautiful old houses still adorn those quiet, charming streets,
and it is most satisfactory to find many of them still occupied
by the direct descendants of the original owners. This is not
the place for a description of them ; but it is hard to resist the

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

237

temptation to say a few words of that enchanting relic known
now as the Sherburne House, which was built in 1718 by
Alexander McPheaderis, and inherited by his daughter, Mrs.
Molly Warner, whose christening-blanket of cloth of gold
still lies in undisturbed folds of dignified magnificence under
this protecting roof, and whose portrait by Copley hangs on
the identical nail where it was placed at least one hundred and
twenty-five years ago, vis-a-vis to the counterfeit presentment
of her stately mother by the same master's hand. One feels
constrained to walk through this house, up and down the fine
staircase, hat in hand, doing reverence ; and even after the
massive old oak door is passed and closed, with its great bull's-
eye lights overhead, and its brass latch which only the initiated
have the power to raise, it is found that the century is still
looking down upon us, — for on this wall rises a lightning-
rod placed there under the directing hand of Benjamin
Franklin.

One may still see in the beautiful garden of Mr. Alexander
Ladd a rose-bush from which seven generations of ladies and
children have gathered roses. This family also hold an estate
here, of which ten generations have had uninterrupted pos-
session, dating from their ancestor the original patentee of
the State of New Hampshire.

Portsmouth is rich in relics. Here may be seen scores of
familiar and confidential letters from some of the most inter-
esting people of the last century, — some from Martha Wash-
ington to her friend Mrs. Tobias Lear, which are reverently
preserved by her grand-niece, as well as those of Washington
himself written to his private secretary Colonel Lear (in whose
arms Washington died), with others from many of the most
famous people of the period. It would be pleasant to linger
here, where faithful patriotic service was not necessarily com-
bined with all the hardest conditions of life.

Here is where the Marquis de Chastellux had the curiosity
to enter a church on Sunday morning, November 10, 1782,
and, although " the audience was not numerous, owing to the
cold" he saw some " handsome women elegantly dressed." But

238 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

these were not representative women of New Hampshire.
These were too near to civilization, too near the sea, which
mitigated the climate, and, with it, all the hardships of life.
Those others lived, many of them, in the depths of the forest
primeval, and toward the north, in log cabins, like that
of Abigail Webster, of which her great son writes, " When
my father built his log cabin and lighted his fire, his smoke
ascended nearer the North Pole than any of His Majesty's
New England subjects: his nearest neighbor on the north was
at Montreal." Here is where the cradle of Daniel Webster
" hung high in the air, like the eyrie of an eagle," as Mr.
Charles March describes it. It was the lady of this establish-
ment who, her husband being old, an invalid, and " not in
easy circumstances," must be consulted about sending a second
son to college, at the solicitation of his brother, since "it would
take all the father was worth," and there was no one left at
home " to carry on the farm and take care of the family."

"I ventured on the negotiation," says Daniel Webster, "and
it was carried, as other things are, often, by the earnest and
sanguine manner of youth."

Ah, it was the man who drew that picture ! " It was carried"
by the heroic dauntless courage of an unselfish mother, to
whom the near possibility of a dependent, comfortless old age
did not weigh in the balance with the advancement, the always
longed-for education, of her sons. *

" Your mother has always said that you would be some-
thing or nothing," seems to be the earliest recorded prophecy
of Webster's greatness, and this in spite of the taunt of the
half-brothers that " Dan was sent to school that he might get
to know as much as other boys."

A picturesque figure of the early days is that of Mary Wil-
son, of Peterborough, New Hampshire, described as " a tall,
graceful woman, with polished manners for those days, and
somewhat famous for her taste in dress." After having tried
every resource of her Scotch-Irish wit to induce and then to
frighten her husband (a good fighting officer in Stark's army,
^>ut not distinguished as a student of belles-lettres) into send-

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE,

239

ing her oldest son to college, dwelling eloquently on the evi-
dent ill effects of bean-porridge and the wearing of a leather
apron on the health of her first-born, she at last accomplished
her object, and in 1785, and for several years later, this "tall,
graceful woman," with her " polished manners," arrayed
doubtless in the scarlet cloak of the period, made the journey
from Peterborough, New Hampshire, to Boston, a distance
of sixty miles, on horseback, and alone, finding her way by
" blazed trees," since " for a large part of the way there were
no open roads," leading a pack-horse laden with great pieces
of linen, woven from her own flax, together with other
produce of her farm, which she sold in Boston, carrying the
money to Cambridge, to pay the college expenses, besides en-
abling her son to be, as one of his class-mates pleasantly re-
membered years afterward, " the best-dressed man in college."

This attractive and efficient woman was a stanch patriot,
but she never quite gave up an inherited faith in the right-
eousness of the law of primogeniture. It is recorded of her
that at a certain Leap-year ball in the year 1808, when she was
%eventy-three years old, she walked the whole length of the
hall, looking for her partner, and then, with great stateliness,
led out the eldest son of her eldest son and with him opened
the ball.

It is said that never were more " fine steps" put into a
contra-dance; and, although the boy of eleven years old did
his very best, he has acknowledged that his grandmother
beat him.

The town of Hollis, New Hampshire, furnishes at least one
historic heroine, as it was the birthplace of Prudence Cum-
mings, who became the wife of David Wright, of Pepperell,
Massachusetts. It was she who, at the head of a band of
women clothed in the apparel of their absent husbands,
sallied forth, in 1775, to defend the bridge over the Nashua
River, between Pepperell and Groton, aroused by the rumor
that the regulars were approaching, and fired with a deter-
mination that " no enemy to freedom should pass that bridge."
The opportunity for the exercise of their prowess approached

240

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

in the form of a notorious tory, on horseback, one Leonard
Whiting, himself also, strangely enough, a native of Hollis.
It was poetic justice that it should be given to his towns-
woman and possible school-mate Mrs. David Wright, in her
assumed character of " sergeant of the guard," to give the
order that he should be seized, taken from his horse, searched,
and detained as a prisoner. Dispatches were found in his
boots, and the Amazons had the satisfaction of giving over
this " enemy to freedom" to the " Committee of Observation"
at Groton.

The history of New Ipswich furnishes a striking story il-
lustrative of the spirit of the women of the early days. This
time it is not a mother, but a sister, a girl of fifteen years old,
who goes home to find that her " darling brother" has been
selected to make one of the fifteen soldiers who are " wanted,"
and who are to march "next day after to-morrow, at sunrise."
The poor tired mother is broken-hearted, chiefly because
her boy will suffer for proper clothing. " The sight of my
mother's tears brought all the hidden strength of mind and
body into action," says the daughter. It evidently was not
an every-day spectacle. A pair of warm trousers was the
especial need. The young girl suggested spinning and
weaving the cloth, and making them, on the spot. " There
is not time," said the mother: "the wool is on the sheep's
back, and the sheep are in the pasture." "Take the salt-
dish and catch a white sheep," said the girl ; and a little
brother obeyed. " There are no sheep-shears within three
miles," mourned the mother. " I can use my small shears,"
replied the girl, — which she did, with such good effect that
half a fleece was soon sent into the house to another sister,
who had made ready "the wheel and cards." The white
sheep was now released, shorn of half its fleece, and "Luther"
was dispatched for a black sheep, which he brought, and
held while the enterprising young manufacturer secured
enough of the black fleece for the " filling," and another
member of the flock ran, half clad, to join his astonished
companions. It is cruel to relate that, at this point, this

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

241

spirited girl of the period was met by her mother, — no fairy
godmother was she, but rather one of those disheartening
mortals of whom it has been said that " the very tones of
the voice were saturated with misfortune," — who announced
that the whole enterprise must now be abandoned, as there
was a long web of linen in the loom ! " I will find an empty
loom," said the voice of Youth and Hope. And she did !
A neighboring farm-house supplied this want, and the spin-
ning, weaving, cutting, and making were all accomplished
within forty hours of the catching of the first sheep, without
the help of one of the modern labor-saving appliances.

The girl, who lived to tell this story after many years, re-
membered no fatigue, only deep satisfaction in the relief of
her mother, the secured comfort of her brother, and a little
pardonable pride in having helped to equip a young warrior
for her country under difficulties. She concludes the relation
of her achievement, however, with the confession that after
all was well over, and the brother sent away with cheerful
God-speeds, she did retire to a solitary place and have " a
good cry."

One of the strong characteristics of most of these women
was an utter intolerance of that indescribable disease, that
bane of modern life, known as " nervousness." An illustration
of the good effect of growing up in this atmosphere of " nerve,"
as distinguished from " nervous," was given by a New Hamp-
shire woman, less than fifty years ago, who, when an alarming-
looking wound was laid open almost entirely across the palm
of her own left hand by the slipping of the knife on a loaf
of bread, calmly asked for a fine needle and thread, and called
her husband to hold the sides of the wound together while
she herself took the necessary stitches. It is perhaps not
surprising that the husband proved wholly unequal to the
emergency, except in calling the doctor. The heroic patient,
however, succeeded in finding another woman, nearly as
plucky as herself, to assist at this feat of domestic surgery,
and had accomplished it all before the arrival of the physician.
Of this woman a daughter wrote, at last, summing up the

16

242 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

impressions of a whole life in few words, "She confronted
life with heroic courage, and met death with a Christian
hope."

No sketch descriptive of the women of New Hampshire
would be complete which should fail to make especial men-
tion of those long-headed and light-hearted Scotch-Irish
people of Londonderry, with their deep religious feeling,
combined with an amazing love of fun, "which mingled
strangely with the most serious concerns." It was of these
people that Judge Smith used to say that "they went to
church on Sunday, practiced all that was good in the sermon
during the week, and laughed at all that was ridiculous"

" A Scotch race," says Dr. Morison, " who had been
for two or three generations in Ireland; and they bore the
marks of their double origin. There was a grotesque humor
about them which, in its way, has never been excelled. It
was the sternness of the Scotch Covenanter softened by a
century's residence abroad, amid persecution and trial, wedded
there to the pathos and comic humor of the Irish, and then
grown wild in the woods, among our New England moun-
tains."

A woman of this race was Mary Woodburn Reid, wife of
General George Reid. During more than seven years, while
her husband was engaged in military service, she took entire
charge of the family and of the farm at Londonderry. She
is spoken of as a woman " of rare endowments and most in-
teresting character ;" and much stress is laid upon the equa-
nimity of her temper, which, in connection with a vigorous
intellect and great cheerfulness of disposition, gave her a
powerful and beneficent influence over the more excitable,
strong passions of her husband, a gallant officer and useful
citizen.

It is gratifying to find that even in those days, when written
words seem to have been too precious to use in the cause of
women, it was thought worth while to record the fact that,
in his public life, General Reid was " much indebted to the
wisdom and prudence of his wife."

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 243

A few extracts from the letters of these two remain, — his
bearing the significant headings " Ticonderoga," " Valley
Forge," and " White Plains," written often as if to a brother
officer, in a style most complimentary to the understanding
of his wife, — and hers tender and true, but to the point, re-
porting, " with the acuteness of one who knew," facts and
plans relating to the farm, the stock, etc., concluding, how-
ever, with the wifely words, " all this with your advice, not
otherwise," ending one letter, like the God-fearing woman she
was, in this quaint fashion : " May the good will of Him who
dwelt in the bush rest and abide with you."

There is an undercurrent of trouble and sadness in these
letters, which tells of heavy burdens bravely borne, although
it never gets put into words ; and it is a comfort to reach at
last the letter from General Reid, when the war is over, telling
his wife to be prepared for the arrival of a chest containing
the old regimental colors and the standard of the regiment,
" which you will take especial care of." It is safe to believe
that she was worthy of the trust, for it was of her that her
friend General Stark said, " If there is a woman in New
Hampshire worthy to be Governor of the State, it is Molly
Reid!" She justified this confidence also, after the manner
of the New Hampshire women of her day; for the State has
to thank her for a most popular Governor, in the person of
her grandson the late Hon. Samuel Dinsmoor.

Elizabeth Morison Smith, mother of Hon. Jeremiah Smith,
Chief-Justice of New Hampshire, was, in most respects, a
typical Londonderry woman, — a woman of energy and spirit,
of strong sense and good principles, who had ten children in
twelve years, but who found time for a prodigious amount
of work, both in-doors and out.

Would that a picture of her had been preserved as she
entered the village church of Peterborough about the year
1751, attired in one of "the only two silk gowns she ever
owned," which are still preserved by her descendants ! She
only wore them on " sacrament days" and when her children
were baptized ! Then her costume was completed by the

244 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

addition of a finely-plaited white linen apron, put on as she
entered the church, and taken off and folded up in "the last
singing." She was a strict disciplinarian; and her children
never forgot the throwing down of a certain shelf by "Jerry"
in the midst of some unusual merry-making, when the con-
sistent mother, undeterred from the path of duty by the
presence of company, left all, to administer the canonical
whipping; and when, after a little while, she discovered that
neighbor Miller's punch-bowl, borrowed for the occasion, had
been broken in the scrimmage, feeling that the punishment
had been wholly inadequate to the occasion, she at once
whipped him again, conscientiously and thoroughly. She
never allowed her children to ask what they were to have
to eat, and they grew up, men and all, like Benjamin Frank-
lin, " with great indifference to such things." She was, never-
theless, a kind-hearted, loving mother, and Jerry did not
remember more than two or three whippings. Perhaps there
were no more punch-bowls left to break !

When the neighbors' children taunted one of the little
girls of this family because she did not wear a jerkin, she
remembered, years afterward, that her mother comforted her
by saying, doubtless with the canny smile peculiar to her
race, "Never mind, ye'll hae jerkins when they hae nane;" a
prophecy which was remembered, because, thanks to the
frugal industrious mother, " it came true." The chief-justice
himself was proud to remember a pose in which she must
forever have stood in his memory. On an occasion when
he had made a little progress on the road which was to
lead to fame, after he had got only a little learning, he pre-
sumed to correct his mother's vigorous but not always
grammatical language,— -when the self-respecting old woman,
with her masterful spirit, stepped on to the maternal throne
at once, and silenced him with the words, in which one seems
to hear a certain quiver of tone in spite of the sternness,
" Wha taught you language ? It was my wheel ! and when
ye'll hae spun as mony long threeds to teach me grammar
as I hae to teach you, I'll talk better grammar."

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

245

How glad she would have been to know that her children
would always remember the " sweet Christian charity" dis-
played by her when a poor young relative, a girl who lived
in her house, had been guilty of some backsliding of so
serious a nature as to cause the calling together of a family
council to see what should be done! A relative of the family,
considered to be " one of the elect," advised concerning the
poor creature, represented as " half-witted and friendless,"
that they should " gar her into the barn, to pray," as not fit
company for such as they ; a proposition instantly and indig-
nantly rejected by this mother in Israel, who took her stand
at once by the side of the offender. This woman, with a
soul as white as the linen apron she folded up in the last
singing, rose up then, and stands forever before her descend-
ants, a genuine follower of Him who came to save that which
was lost.

These were not at all akin to that class of women of whom
Mr. Kingsley sings : they never seem to have felt called upon
to " weep" while the men were at " work." On the contrary,
they had not only great powers for work themselves, but a
most delightful capacity for laughing over their tasks, and
even singing, the while. " All the children of the neighbor-
hood crowded about to hear Mrs. Smith sing Scotch songs," —
perhaps while she was harvesting the corn, which she always
helped to do.

Dr. Morison tells a story to illustrate the almost uncon-
trollable sense of humor which characterized these cheery
people. It is of a mournful occasion when an intemperate
relative of some of them was found dead by the roadside.
The friends were all assembled, and in a truly sorrowful frame
of mind, when " the coroner made some ridiculous blunders
in reading." One by one the company was overcome by the
ludicrousness of it, until at last all gave in, and the whole
group of mourners joined in a burst of irrepressible laughter.
Some worthy descendants of these hard-working laughers
may still be found in New Hampshire. Thank God for the
perpetual sunshine they shed about them !

246 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

However much the modern methods of education and do-
mestic discipline may differ from those which guided these
primitive people, there can be no doubts concerning the purity
and unselfishness of the motive, nor the brave fidelity to what
they saw as duty, which seems to have distinguished these
mothers from first to last. That the results are so good
seems only another of the many proofs of the superiority of
example over precept, and of character over all things.

There is something especially satisfactory in the spectacle
of transmitted virtues, as much so, perhaps, as the reverse is
disappointing and painful. An unusually happy illustration
is furnished in the person of Judge Smith, himself one of the
wisest, best, and most attractive of men, and in that of his
daughter, Ariana Smith. In the son one finds the fine, strong
intellect, integrity, and energy of the mother, — the same gen-
erous temper also, the same dignity and simplicity, and the
same humor, which, " like the foam and phosphoric light in
the wake of a man-of-war, often marked the progress of his
mind through subjects the most profound." It is impossible
not to recognize the combination of traits as the mother's
own, although lending dignity and grace now to the character
of a chief-justice. The same insignia of nobility were worn
by the granddaughter. And here the fine, sound old root
blossoms into such grace and charm and sweetness that her
most faithful and loving chronicler and kinsman, Rev. Dr.
Morison, to whom the world owes much for the picture of
this remarkable family trio, evidently dares not trust himself
to put into words what is in his heart and memory, without a
curb.

She was born in Exeter, New Hampshire, in 1797, and she
lived only about thirty years. Her mother, whose name was
Eliza Ross, — a gentle, lovely woman, — was a daughter of Mrs.
Ariana (Brice) Ross, of Maryland, from whom, through a line
of grandmothers of Bohemian extraction, Ariana Smith in-
herited her uncommon name.

There are a few people still living who remember how she
looked and what she was. Twenty years ago there were

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

247

many, who were never tired of telling of the graces of her
person, mind, and heart. It must have been a rare counte-
nance which left so vivid and precious an impression.

" Her face was full of contrasts and contradictions," says
one. It typified well, then, the admirable balance of her char-
acter. Soft black hair, with a surpassingly white skin, great
earnest blue eyes which looked out from under quite black
lashes, and a brow of that peculiar conformation which tells
of great quickness of perception. The exceptionally animated,
almost eager expression of the eyes was most striking, taken
in connection with the reposeful, self-contained lines about
the mouth. " Her voice, subdued and passionless, contrasted
strangely with the fervor of her words."

United to rare personal beauty were uncommon dignity and
grace of manner. It was the dignity of complete simplicity
and self-forgetfulness, and, with it, she had the art of putting
all sorts and conditions of persons entirely at ease in her pres-
ence. One of the most significant tributes to her memory is
the oft-repeated and most grateful acknowledgment of men,
many of them afterwards famous and honored in various
walks in life, who, while they were students at the well-known
Exeter Academy, at the unformed and unattractive age, were
first aroused to new, higher, and happier views of life by this
beautiful, gifted woman. It is said that the most awkward
boy, struggling with that exquisite suffering which grows out
of excessive shyness, was made to forget himself at Judge
Smith's hospitable table by the altogether indescribable sym-
pathy, grace, and tact of his daughter Ariana. Some of them
have said that it was in her presence, and under the influence
of her exquisite courtesy, that they learned their first lessons
in self-respect. This tender consideration for the feelings
of others was quite in keeping with what has been called the
most striking feature of her character, — that charity which
" thinketh no evil," and which always inclined her to look at
people in the light of their virtues rather than of their faults,
although she had far too much keenness of perception to con-
found the two. Her life was almost wholly uneventful, but

248 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

she was one of those rare people who, without any great op-
portunity for action, succeed in making a very unusual and
lasting impression on all those about them. It is not what she
did, but what she was, which has put a glory about her name
and handed it down through at least two generations of her
neighbors and kindred.

It is impossible to improve on Dr. Morison's description
of her, in his biography of her charming and distinguished
father :

" Her devotion to domestic duties, and particularly to her
mother through years of painful disease, might, but for the
peculiar elasticity of her mind, have worn her down, yet to
the last she was like one whose life had been a perpetual sun-
shine. Her enthusiasm might have betrayed her into indis-
cretions, but for the prudent self-control that never forsook
her; and the rare good sense that ran through all her conduct
might have made her commonplace, but for the enthusiasm
of her nature. The great extent of her reading, and the accu-
racy of her knowledge in the more solid as well as in the
lighter branches of literature, might have made her pedantic,
were it not, as her father said, that she was more studious to
conceal than to exhibit her accomplishments. ' She had,' he
said, when his heart was wrung with the anguish of bereave-
ment, 'a mind intelligent and ingenuous, having learning
enough to give refinement to her taste, and far too much taste
to make pretensions to learning. She had a feminine high-
mindedness.' ' She often shined in conversation, but never
strove to shine.' ' As far as regards literature, she never (in
conversation) aimed at doing her best ; and yet she was not
indifferent to the opinion of her father and her friends.' Her
almost passionate love of society, and the attentions with
which she was loaded, when in the fashionable world, by those
whose attentions are most flattering to a woman of sense and
refinement, might have made her giddy ; her love of nature,
of rural life, and the simple intercourse of the country, might
have made her shy and timid, but for the genuineness of her
feelings and the simplicity of her character. 'I rely,' said her

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

249

father, ' with entire confidence on your good taste and discre-
tion,— two things oftener united than is commonly thought.'
At a large party, in the city, it might seem as if she had no
heart or thought for anything else; but she gladly returned
to the quiet home, where almost all her time was spent, and
there appeared as if she had never been absent, or had gone
abroad only to bring back new treasures for the enjoyment
of her friends. Substantial books were read, kind acts and
serious duties performed, as if they were only a pastime or
amusement. Nothing was ever said of them, and therefore
her letters and her usual intercourse with society gave only
the most superficial view of her mind. Her charities, like the
charities of heaven, came often without revealing the hand
that brought them."

The characters of father and daughter were formed on the
same model, and a positively romantic devotion and intimacy
existed between them. There was complete sympathy of
taste and feeling, and very charming are the glimpses of their
almost constant companionship.

In May, 1820, she writes to a young friend, " I particularly
like, the end of May or first of June, to receive my friends,
because my father is then certainly at home."

"April, 1821. — My father leaves us next Monday for many
weeks. I hope you will pity our desolate state, and enliven
it by frequent letters."

" May, 1822. — I am writing with a pen of my father's. What
gallant and sincere things it would say if guided by its mas-
ter's hand !"

Again, she writes of his appearance coming out of church,
how she knew him first in the crowd by the flowers in his
button-hole, " which are freshly put there twice a day."

During seven years' service in Congress, Judge Smith had
made the acquaintance of many of the best people in the
country, who remained life-long friends. It was in their soci-
ety that his daughter was appreciated and much admired.

It is pleasant to be told that she enjoyed this thoroughly.
Thus, she writes of a ball at Boston where she danced every

250 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

dance, " I admired my own ingenuity in talking to my partner
while I was actually dancing, and at every pause listening to
Mr. M., who stood behind me and was very agreeable."

The same letter discloses another side of her character, for
she writes that before going to the ball she had been reading
a new number of the North American Review, and had de-
cided that Mr. F. C. Gray, whom she calls " the first young
man of Boston," must be the author of an article which had
greatly pleased her. She adds that she learned in the ball-
room, from Mr. Gray himself, that the article was written by
his brother.

It may perhaps have been in such an hour that one of her
admirers was inspired to write of her, in a birthday ode, which
still exists, —

" Such beauty and such strength of mind
Were ne'er so happily combined."

The fragments of a youthful correspondence which remain
to us are full of proofs of a genuine love of literature, as well
as a cultivation of taste not altogether common in the women
of Ariana Smith's day. It is also interesting as it calls our
attention to the wholesomely frugal literary diet of the period.

" We are daily expecting from Boston a box of books, which
came in the London packet, all that are readable for a lady, —
' Hallam's Middle Ages,' ' Nichols's Anecdotes/ and, I blush
to write such discordant names, Miss Porter's new novel."

To another friend she writes of her eager anticipations of
the forthcoming " Edgeworth memoir," calling her friend's
attention to a pleasant similarity between Miss Edgeworth
and Mme. de Stael, — " their blind devotion to their fathers."
Ariana Smith was surpassed by neither of them in this filial
grace.

To her intimate friend Miss Holmes, an elder sister of Dr.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, she writes, —

" MY DEAR MARY, —

" I did not intend to answer your letter so very soon, but I
have just finished reading one of Barry Cornwall's 'Dramatic

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

-51

Scenes/ which is so very tragical that I cannot think of sleep-
ing unless I can contrive, by writing to you, to give my
thoughts an entirely new direction. Few things give me
such pleasant reflections as Cambridge and you ; and you, to
Avhom I so often repair to borrow animation, will excuse me,
I hope, for resorting to you now for composure."

These letters were evidently written in the days of golden
leisure, before the era of postal cards and spasmodic para-
graphs, before the coming of that date " when time shall be
no more," as a woman of 1876 cleverly designates our own
day. That they were carefully-written letters on both sides,
worthy of two readings, we may infer from the fact that
"Ariana" writes to "Mary," "I have dispatched to Charlotte
your last letter, after having tacked some of my linsey-woolsey
to your silver tissue."

Ariana's letters give constant proof of an admirable ca-
pacity for enjoyment, and of that enthusiasm of nature out of
which it grows. She writes of having had delight in the
acting of Kean in the primitive days when the selectmen of
the town of Boston were driven to active measures to prevent
a riot resulting from the mad rush for tickets. During the
same visit to Boston she writes, " Sunday was the most de-
lightful day possible to imagine. Mr. Channing gave us a
noble sermon upon Christian zeal ! but how did that and
all other discourses vanish from my mind when I heard the
splendid effusions of Professor Everett's genius ! Such bril-
liant ideas, so novel and profound, such beautiful imagery,
such eloquent gestures. I never before knew what genius
could effect. We were well rewarded for our walk through
wet streets to the North End." Again she refers to this
sermon which so aroused her youthful enthusiasm : she says
of an exciting book, " it makes me thrill as much as Mr.
Everett's description did yesterday of ' the chariot-wheels of
judgment rolling down the courts of heaven.'"

It is pleasant to find entire freedom from all sectarian nar-
rowness in this vigorous young mind. " I know not when I

252 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

have been more interested in a preacher," she writes, " than I
was in the eloquent and truly devout Bishop Cheverus," — the
first Roman Catholic bishop in Massachusetts.

She was a favorite and an ardent admirer of her father's
friend Daniel Webster ; and it is not surprising that she very
much enjoyed the journey to Hanover, to attend the Dart-
mouth Commencement of the year 1819, with her father and
this great man, whose personal fascination has perhaps never
been surpassed, for traveling-companions. " Mr. Webster was
in high spirits, — talked, laughed, and sang the whole way,"
she writes. Mr. Webster disported himself in this wise only
in very congenial society. She was only about twenty years
old at this time, but it was a discriminating judgment which
led her to select the performance of a certain young Mr.
Choate, of the graduating class, as the one most worthy of
note; "really admirable," she calls it, adding that "this
young man is a fine scholar, a hard student, and uncommonly
interesting" This was, of course, no other than the great
Rufus.

It has been said that perhaps the greatest single pleasure of
her life, if one may judge from her frequent recurrence to it
afterwards, was found in listening to Mr. Webster's great oration
at Plymouth in December, 1820. "The Godlike man!" was
her exclamation. This was the occasion of which Mr. Ticknor
wrote, " When I came out, I was almost afraid to come near
him. It seemed to me as if he was like the mount that might
not be touched, and that burned with fire." Mr. Ticknor
adds that after the oration was off his mind Mr. Webster
became " gay and playful as a kitten." Ariana's letter to her
mother describing this eventful day contained a few words
to the same effect "The great orator was standing in a circle
of gentlemen, while I was promenading the room, leaning on

Mr. 's supporting arm : the moment I came opposite to

where Mr. Webster was standing, he broke from the group,
and, warmly seizing my hand with both of his, exclaimed, in
an animated tone, ' Oh, you dear little sylph from New Hamp-
shire, how glad I am to see you here !' "

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 253

Whenever she traveled with her father, the two are de-
scribed as " exploring and enjoying with an almost childish
zest and freshness of interest." She writes to her mother,
on one of these occasions, of an especially pleasant day in a
stage-coach, made so by the companionship of a " charm-
ing young married man, who has traveled, is literary, com-
municative, and well-bred." One can readily believe all
this when it is found to be Mr. William H. Prescott who
is thus described, and also that " father and Mr. P. kept
up a constant interchange of wit and humor. It was the
most entertaining ride we ever took." This seems no mean
praise when one finds that they had as traveling-compan-
ions during parts of this journey Chancellor Kent and his
family, Mr. Emmett, of New York, and Mr. Hoffman, of Balti-
more.

It is during this journey that the invalid wife and mother
at home gives, in a few words, an idea of what the home life
was. "I wish you could see your garden tonight," she
writes. " It is delightful ; but I cannot help feeling that the
divinities of the place are aivay. Do not let me see in your
letters that you are not enjoying yourselves; for never did any
one make such sacrifice as I. It seems to me that I should
like even to hear you [the judge] talk to the cats in your very
loudest tones."

She was never left again, and during the remaining two
years of her life Ariana's devotion to her mother was untiring.
She surrounded the invalid with an atmosphere of constant
cheerfulness and sunshine, assuming every care and lighten-
ing every burden for her father in his deep affliction. It is
not surprising that he should have written to her, during a
short absence, soon after her mother's death, " How good and
happy a thing it is that I have no anxiety about affairs at
home !" and again, " My dear Ariana, your letter was very,
very good and kind, and cheered me mightily. I am glad
such sentiments are in you, and that they come out. God
bless you ! . . . I am glad this will reach you Saturday : it
will come fresh from your best friend, and you will readily

254 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

imagine, better than he can express, the love he bears you,
and always has, and ever will."

No picture of the daily intercourse between Judge Smith
and his daughter would be complete which should omit the
element of fun which is constantly appearing in it, — the
mixture of playfulness and seriousness which had come
straight down from the Scotch-Irish mother and grand-
mother, and which gave an indescribable charm and flavor
to life.

At one time Judge Smith writes to his daughter of the pet
cats, of which there were five, " The fifth member of our
fireside party says, or seems to say, that she wishes you
were at home, and regrets she was not taught to write, that
she might communicate with you in Boston. So, you see,
you are kindly remembered by all."

It was a family custom to carry on, or report, imaginary
conversations with the cats, over the breakfast-table, treating
often of the trials of cats, their loves and griefs and views of
life. "The humor of these extempore fables," says Dr.
Morison, " was often irresistible. Not a little sly satire and
instruction, as well as amusement, was administered by the
sagacious cats to other members of the household."

Another vein is touched in a fragment of a letter from
Judge Smith to Ariana during an absence of her own, — this
when she was a school-girl : " I hope you attend church
regularly, my dear: it is no matter what the form of religion
is, but it is absolutely necessary that we should have the sub-
stance; and though church-going is not religion, it is a means
of becoming religious."

It is not difficult to imagine that these words produced a
deep impression, coming from one of whom it is said,
" Though for many years the member of a church, he was
never loud in his religious professions. Indeed, he was so
disgusted by the levity with which the most sacred of names
and the most solemn of subjects are sometimes bandied about
by religious people, and he so shrank from every semblance
of ostentation and cant, that it was not easy to see at once,

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, 255

from his conversation or outward conduct, how deeply these
things entered into his character."

Very soon after the death of her mother, from consumption,
the only brother of Miss Smith fell a victim to the same dis-
ease. And now, again, her days were passed in carrying
peace and comfort to a sick-room ; but, even now, the even-
ings were spent in the charming library with her father. All
the latest books were read together, enjoyed together, and
criticised together. An occasional game of chess gave variety
to the evenings, and conversation never flagged. The father
was now seventy years old. It was not surprising, therefore,
that " it had never occurred to him that she might be taken
from him," — the light of his eyes, the last one of his five chil-
dren, whom he had always counted upon as the one to be left
to him.

At the beginning of one of the cruel New Hampshire win-
ters, a little cloud, not larger than a man's hand, hung over
the beautiful home in Exeter. They called it a violent cold,
and nobody was alarmed, — least of all the patient. Nothing
was given up, and there was still sunshine in the house ; but
the enemy was always at work, and early in March she gave
up the evenings in the library, — in fact, could not leave her
room.

How soon she began herself to realize the truth none will
ever know ; but the following words, found among her last
papers, copied by her hand, tell their own story :

" It has often been said that a slow, wasting disease of the
body must press heavily upon the soul, which sees its depart-
ure from the friendly world step by step, and counts, as it
were, the leaves of bloom which drop one after another.
When, however, no distorting pains interfere, and when the
departing one does not love too much that which is called
life, nor hate too much that which is called death, it may not
be so bad as is imagined. If we drink the last flask of a noble
wine with a pleasure which we did not know before, why not
also these last drops of the earthly being ? In thus gliding
quietly downward we meet with few of the cares and shocks

256 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of this lower world ; we have little more to do than to pluck
its flowers ; a foretaste of the disembodied state is breathing
around us ; those who love us have more thought and more
affection for the departing one; and those who do not love
us we more lightly and easily pardon, regardful of the text,
Forgive as we would be forgiven, as well as mindful of the
short time which we have to pilgrimage together; and when
a tear flows from the eye, it flows almost as visibly as seed-
pearl into the life of paradise. Whoever has experienced such
gentle suffering will not deny us his assent."

Through all, thoughtfulness for her father never failed.
She did not like him to see her suffering, and had for him still
" pleasant looks," " smiles," and even " lively conversation."
Very few were her words concerning herself. " That reticence,
before the high problems of being, which belongs to a healthy
nature," as one has well said, was hers to a remarkable de-
gree. She said just enough to show that she knew all, and
had no fears, and no regrets except for her father. Once she
said to him, " How many times have I formed schemes of the
future, when I was to take care of you, nurse you, amuse you !
How many thousand little comforts I have planned for you !"
But this was talk which neither of them could endure, and it
was never repeated. Toward the end of June she asked to be
carried to the window, and looked out, with delight, upon
the beauty which she loved, — all around her. " Such softness
of coloring!" she said; "such intermingling of shades! such
variety of green !"

At sunset of the next day, a perfect day in June, as the
breath of the clover and the roses was blowing in at the win-
dows, with perfect composure and peace, she died.

Even now the house was not quite desolate : the influence
of her cheerful, triumphant spirit seemed to fill the places
which should know her no more forever; and, after a very
short conflict with himself, her father asked his clergyman to
give thanks " that she had been spared so long." Truly it
might have been said of her, —

WOMEN OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

" God sent his messenger of faith,
And whispered in the maiden's heart,
Rise up, and look from where thou art,
And scatter with unselfish hands
Thy freshness on the barren sands
And solitudes of Death."

It has been impossible to do justice to this character here.
Time and material for anything like a biography have both
been wanting; but this imperfect sketch will perhaps serve as
an illustration, in one family, of what might be found in many
others, of the characteristic traits of those sensible, strong,
good women of New Hampshire of the early days, under the
refining influences of comfort and culture. It was a good
stock ; and, after years of patient growth and self-development
in obscure places, and under lowering skies, this is the flower
of it in the sunlight.

ANNIE WILSON FISKE.

REBECCA MOTTE.

IN the oldest part of one of the oldest streets of Charleston
stands a house so different from those around it, so exactly
the counterpart of an old-fashioned comfortable English home
in some quiet cathedral town, that the stranger pauses invol-
untarily to inquire how it came there, and, while he glances
from the ivy-matted brick wall that shuts off the garden to
a wide-spreading magnolia at the gate to dispel the illusion
of his being on English ground, is nowise surprised to learn
that this house dates back to colonial times, and that the
massive stone-work of the porch and windows, nay, even the
old red bricks of which it is built, were, in truth, brought
from the mother-country more than a century ago. The very
name of King Street recalls this loyalty of another time and
rule.

As we pass, with a delightful sense of roominess, from the
flagged space in front, up the wide granite steps, and note the
solid masonry, our thoughts go back respectfully to the days
when men did not work so fast as in this our day, but worked
how much more honestly, how much more faithfully ! Let
us go through the long stone-floored passage that extends
from front to rear of the house, and take our seats in the
arched piazza, while we listen to the story which the whis-
pering old garden and the echoing walls seem ready to pour
into our ears. It is a story with no poetry in it but what the
realities of a life nobly spent must always yield; and if time
has already come to cast an illusive veil over its events, here,
at least, in the scene where much of it was passed, we may
succeed in throwing aside the deception, and may see for our-

259

260 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

selves whether the old past in its nakedness is not even fairer
than it seems through far-off mists.

A hundred years ago this house had become the property
of Mrs. Rebecca Motte, and here she lived with her husband
and daughters. Her father, Robert Brewton, an Englishman
of good family, settled in Charleston in the early years of the
last century, and, marrying Miss Mary Griffith, became the
father of four children, the youngest of whom was Rebecca,
afterwards Mrs. Motte. She was born in 1738; but of her
earliest years we know little. There is a quaint old painting
of her mother, Mary Griffith, with great, soft, liquid eyes, and
auburn hair; a peculiar face, the gentle tenderness of brow
and eye contrasting with an expression of strength about
the mouth and decidedly aquiline nose; just the face for a
wise and loving mother who would know well how to train
up her children to be good and noble. Under such maternal
guidance Rebecca Brewton grew up, developing year by year
the special gifts and graces which matured in after-life. Even
as a child she was remarkable for a certain gentle firmness
of character which never forsook her in the most trying
moments of her existence. The educational advantages of
Charleston at that time were not great ; but the most was
made of them in her behalf, and the seed, falling on rich soil,
bore good fruit; so that as the young girl approached woman-
hood she was noted then, as ever afterward, for her charming
refinement of tone and manner, — that last best seal of good
education. Her personal appearance, as represented in one
or two old pictures carefully preserved, corresponds well with
the description we have of her character. She was below the
medium height, but with a bearing so full of sweet, self-con-
tained dignity and composure that her want of size never
conveyed the faintest idea of insignificance. The oval face
and arched eyebrows almost atoned for a want of strict regu-
larity of feature, while blond curling hair, blue eyes, and
bright complexion modified an expression of countenance
that without them would have been almost too grave and
serious. Looking at the face you would say at once that

REBECCA MOTTE. 26l

it indicates a wonderful earnestness and determination of
character, full of force, yet entirely removed from unfeminine
boldness. These pictures were taken of her in youth. Those
who remember her now — none but the youngest of her
many grandchildren and their contemporaries — recall but
the shadow of all this, unlike as age is to youth. We, with
our modern eyes, wonder a little, gazing on the likeness, to
see how unadorned the young woman is, except by what Dame
Nature gave her. The dress, it is true, is rich ; but there is
no other ornament. The hair is drawn completely off the
forehead, a la Chinoise, and curls behind only because it
would curl.

As we realize the influences under which Rebecca Brewton
grew to womanhood, we see more and more clearly how dif-
ferent was the Charleston of her day from the town we are
familiar with. The building of a city was not then, as now,
the work of a few years. South Carolina itself, that part of
it at least which was inhabited by Europeans, was far smaller
than we find it now. Looking over the few historical records
that remain of Charleston as it was during the first century
after its foundation at Oyster Point in 1679, we see how great
the change has been ; for, though the commercial activity
created by the new agriculture was all centred in Charleston,
the limits of the town were very small, and the best and most
ornamental part of it, along East and South Battery, did not
exist. What now goes by the name of White Point Garden
was nothing but a marsh, subject to the constant ebb and
flow of the tide in Ashley River. The people, too, although
many of the most respectable citizens bore the same names
that still belong to prominent families, were in great part
European by birth, English, French, and Scotch, with all the
national characteristics of the countries from which they had
so recently come. The American type, as it is now called,
which was to be the outgrowth of a great blending of various
elements acted on by new circumstances, had not yet come
into being here, — if, indeed, anywhere, at that time.

This, then, was the atmosphere in which Rebecca Brewton

262 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

developed and displayed a character the good qualities of
which are happily confined to no time or place ; yet she had
surely inherited, with her full English blood, what we are
accustomed to look upon as essentially English character-
istics,— undaunted firmness under trial, and cool steadfastness
of purpose. Association with a large and attractive circle of
companions of her own age, of whom we catch occasional
glimpses in such sketches of the time as are to be found,
must have told strongly on one so formed for friendship and
its influences. Many of these early friends and acquaintances
became men and women of note in the days of the Revolution,
showing by their actions then how admirable they must always
have been.

Hers was a nature, at the same time, too thoughtful not to
be greatly acted on by what was passing around her in the
political colonial world ; and we may well believe that the
germ of that patriotism which distinguished her even among a
host of patriots was not lying dormant, but grew and expanded
steadily with the growth and expansion of liberal ideas in the
country throughout the earlier half of her life which preceded
the great struggle for liberty. When it began, the enthusiasm
of girlhood was already strengthened in her by the ripe judg-
ment of full womanhood.

But to return to where we left her. In 1758, when her
school-days had not very long been left behind, Rebecca
Brewton was married to Jacob Motte, the eldest son of a large
and highly-respected Huguenot family. De La Motte, their
progenitor, had been forced out of France with numbers of
his countrymen whom the Edict of Nantes rendered homeless
in the year 1685. He took refuge in Holland; and his son
John, after being for some time Dutch consul in Dublin,
crossed the water and settled in Charleston in 1709. It was
the grandson of this gentleman who wedded Rebecca Brew-
ton. Three daughters were born to them, but no son : so
that with this pair the two family names of Motte and Brewton
became extinct, or are found only linked with those to which
the various remaining female branches connected them by

REBECCA MOTTE. 263

marriage. The years that followed this early union were
quiet but not unimportant ones in the life of our heroine,
made happy as they were by the sweetest and most engross-
ing occupations that come to fill a woman's lot. Yet they
need not be long dwelt on ; for we can easily picture them to
ourselves, and realize, too, how each of them in passing added
further maturity of thought and experience and interest to
one whose active and energetic nature was capable of con-
stant growth and improvement.

One incident which happened in the early years of her
married life may be worth mentioning, bringing her into rela-
tion for the first time, as it does, with a well-known historical
personage. In 1762, Admiral Anson, whose fame as a navi-
gator had been acquired a good many years previously by his
voyage around the world, visited Charleston and became a
guest in Mrs. Motte's house. She lived at that time in the
upper part of the town, and after the admiral's visit that quarter
went for a long time by the name of Ansonborough. When
he was taking leave of his hostess he presented her with a
large and very handsome punch-bowl of India china, which
had traveled round the world with him. This relic of the old
days, a beautiful specimen of its kind, is still in the possession
of one of her descendants, being originally left to the eldest
grandchild.

Quietly and peacefully the years went on, with only occa-
sional vague mutterings of the storm which was approaching
but was yet unforeseen, at least by the happy household over
which Mrs. Motte presided. The three little girls passed from
babyhood to childhood ; and their mother, comparatively at
leisure from her maternal cares, became more and more a
favorite in the society in which she moved, not only admired
for the sweet, attractive grace which made her hospitality
charming, but beloved for her active benevolence and self-
sacrificing goodness to the poor and afflicted.

But with the opening of hostilities sorrow and trouble
seemed to come first to her door. In 1775 her brother, Miles
Brewton, whose strongly patriotic sympathies had made him

264 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

an ardent promoter of the cause of liberty, sailed from Charles-
ton for England with all his family, intending to leave them
with relatives there and return to the post of duty. But the
vessel was wrecked on its outward voyage, and not one pas-
senger saved : so that Mrs. Motte was left to mourn the loss
of a fondly-loved and only brother. A constant source of
anxiety, too, from this time, was the condition of her husband's
health. Mr. Motte lived through the first years of the war,
a martyr to gout, and died shortly after the occupation of
Charleston by the British. When the war broke out, his
wife, knowing that it was impossible for him to enter the ser-
vice of his country, and lamenting that she had neither hus-
band nor son to contribute to the cause that was so dear to
her, declared she must do what she could, and immediately
ordered down to the city her entire plantation force, that they
might be set to work on the fortifications which were to be
erected for its defense on the land-side. Nor did she content
herself with this. Through the long, weary years that fol-
lowed, no heart went out more freely than hers in sympathy
for the suffering, no hand was more busy in making and sup-
plying clothing and necessaries of all kinds for the soldiers,
as far as her opportunities and means would allow.

After Sir Henry Clinton's failure to gain possession- of
Charleston by the water-approach, in June, 1776, the enemy
confined their operations for a time entirely to the more
northerly portions of the country, and during the next two
years and a half South Carolina escaped the calamities of
war in her midst. The English attempted, it is true, to give
trouble by inciting the Indians to fight; but vigorous measures
were taken for their suppression, and in the course of a few
months all resistance on their part came to an end. It was
not till the winter of 1779 that General Prevost began his
march from Savannah with the design of capturing Charles-
ton ; and this, too, ended in defeat and disappointment to the
enemy, for, after being gallantly repulsed by Count Pulaski
with a small force, they did not long persist in their attempt,
but, fearing the speedy arrival of reinforcements for the town,

'

REBECCA MOTTE. 265

fell back on the islands, and gradually made their way south-
ward again. „

After considerable successes in Georgia, however, Sir Henry
Clinton was emboldened to make a third attempt on Charles-
ton. Slowly and cautiously during the whole of the winter
of 1780 he made his preparations to invest the town, and late
in the spring he finally brought it to surrender.

On her brother's death Mrs. Motte had fallen heir to his
property, and this old King Street house, built by him, became
her home. It was immediately chosen as headquarters when,
in the month of May, the British entered the town, and was
occupied by Sir Henry Clinton and other officers until the
evacuation at the end of 1782. Almost every room in the
house has its separate story relating to what happened in it
during that time. On the marble mantel-piece in one may be
seen a caricature of the English general, scratched apparently
with a diamond-point on the hard polished surface, and with
the name " Sir H. Clinton" appended in small letters. It is
only visible from a very oblique point of view and in a partic-
ular light, and was probably drawn by some lounging aide-
de-camp in a moment of idleness or irritation. Be that as it
may, and be it caricature or correct likeness, the whole pose
and air and cast of countenance are so unmistakably English,
and so military at the same time, that a glance at it carries
conviction that the person it represents was veritably present
in the flesh at the moment it was taken.

This same room witnessed the fruitless presentation to
Lord Rawdon of the petition signed by the patriot women
of Charleston for the pardon of the unfortunate Isaac Hayne.
Mrs. Finley, who delivered it, was a relative of the unhappy
prisoner, and brought with her his two little children, in the
hope that their forlorn and pitiful condition would melt the
heart of the British commander. Long years afterward, the
son, grown to manhood, entered the room again, for the first
time since that bitter day, and described to a bystander the
scene which it so vividly recalled to his memory.

In a room opposite this one, across the broad stone-floored

266 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

passage-way, was to be seen in those days, sunk into a panel
over the mantel-piece, a portrait of Miles Brewton, the de-
ceased brother of the lady of the house, — a painting of no
mean merit, for it was by the hand of Sir Joshua Reynolds.
But that did not avail to save it from the vandalism of the
English soldiery, one of whom struck his bayonet through
the canvas, by way of insult to the dead rebel. The picture
is still preserved, and the rent still visible, although an attempt
has been made to conceal the injury done by it.

Let us go into yet another room, teeming even more than
these with recollections of the past. This was the only room
in the house which the British officers, on installing them-
selves, allowed its occupants to retain for their own use ; and
here Mrs. Motte, her daughters, and Mrs. Brewton (a widowed
cousin of the family) locked themselves in during the first
hours of confusion and disorder, whilst the soldiers, with
clanking swords and boisterous talk, were pervading every
other part of the premises. After a while some one knocked
at the door ; but the ladies dared not open it. At first they
would make no answer even ; but the knock was repeated
again and again, with the half-whispered assurance that it was
a friend who asked admittance. At length a black finger was
thrust through the keyhole, to convince them there was no
reason to doubt this assertion ; and they opened the door, to
find outside a faithful negro servant, who, when she got fairly
in, sank on the floor, exclaiming, " Oh, missis, such a time,
such a time as I had to git to you !" Then she called for a
pair of scissors, and, raising her skirt, ripped open a patch
made in it to conceal a letter which had been intrusted to
her care, and which, with great difficulty, she had succeeded
in bringing through the enemy's line, and thus faithfully de-
livered.

Throughout the summer and autumn of 1780, Mrs. Motte
continued to occupy with her family a small part of her own
house in Charleston. She would gladly have taken refuge at
her country-place on the Congaree River, to which the enemy
had not at that time penetrated; but her husband's con-

REBECCA MOTTE. 26/

dition of health precluded the possibility of such a move.
The disease, which terminated his life early in the following
year, was making rapid progress ; and his wife nursed him
with the untiring devotion of her unselfish nature. Under
these trying circumstances her calm dignity of demeanor
exacted unfailing respect from her unbidden guests. Every
day she presided at the long dinner-table, which was laid in
the big drawing-room and always crowded with officers.
The three pretty daughters never appeared on these occa-
sions. Meal-time was the signal for them to steal noiselessly
and dutifully up the narrowest, darkest, and most crooked
of little staircases into a dingy garret, where mamma locked
them up safe from the eye of the British lion. Not for worlds
would the good lady have suffered a daughter of hers to run
the risk of possible flirtation with the enemies of her people.
In those days of public gloom and depression, the patriotic
women of Charleston — the Whig ladies, as they were called —
always appeared on the streets dressed in deep mourning.
Some of them, in their unavoidable intercourse with the
English, made good use of the well-known woman's weapon;
and among the most prominent in this kind of warfare was
the Mrs. Brewton before mentioned as a connection of Mrs.
Motte's. She bullied the officers unmercifully, and so much
excited their ire that they finally exiled her to Philadelphia.
On one occasion, when she had recently returned from the
country, an officer inquired of her anxiously how things were
going on in the interior of the State. She immediately an-
swered that all nature smiled, for everything was Greene
down to Monk's Corner. At another time she was walking
down Broad Street, in her full suit of black, when one of the
garrison joined her; and just at that moment something
caught her dress and a part of it was torn off: she took up
the fragment of crape, and, passing the house of John Rut-
ledge, occupied at that time by the English Colonel Moncrief,
she hung the symbol of mourning on the railing in front, ex-
claiming, " Where are you, dear Governor? Let your house
mourn for you, as your friends do !"

268 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

No feeling could be more natural than the honest hatred
which many women of the Revolution felt toward their foes
and were at no pains to conceal. Yet wherever in the scant
records of her day we read of Mrs. Motte's relations with
English soldiers, there we read also of her quiet courtesy and
unalterable dignity of bearing toward them ; in the same
paragraphs in which her strong and unfaltering patriotism is
insisted on, and of which, indeed, her actions give highest
evidence, the respect and even attachment she inspired them
with are declared. Nothing excites in us such reverence for
her liberal and high-minded character as this entire freedom
from petty feelings of personal enmity toward those who had
injured her.

But to return to the summer of the year i/So. It was a dis-
astrous time for the American cause, and a season of painful
anxiety in Mrs. Motte's family. The eldest daughter, Eliza-
beth, had married, a year previously, Major — afterward
General — Tom Pinckney ; but, her husband being constantly
with the army, she continued to live with her mother for
several years after her marriage. When the battle of Camden
took place, in August, 1780, Major Pinckney was severely
wounded. The excessively hot trying weather made his
chance of recovery a poor one ; but, thanks, it was said, to his
own placid fortitude as well as to his wife's unwearying devo-
tion in nursing him, he was restored. Many years after, as
he was passing near the battle-field, he drove with his chil-
dren to the spot, and told them how, as he lay helpless on the
ground when the battle was over, an English ammunition-
wagon happening to pass near, he was picked up and con-
veyed, at his own request, to the house of a friend in the
town. As the wagon jolted along, another wounded Amer-
ican was discovered, and lifted to a place at his side. Not
long after, they came upon an English soldier who had also
received a wound ; and the last poor wretch was immediately
put out by the driver and his companions to make room for
their own countryman. Major Pinckney besought them to
have pity on the sufferer, and not leave him behind to perish,

REBECCA MOTTE. 269

but was roughly answered, " Shut up, or we'll throw you
out !" He happened to have on a pair of gold buckles at-
tached to the knee-breeches which were the fashion of the
day ; and the soldiers, eager for booty, proceeded to rob him
of them. They got off one, and were about disturbing the
wounded leg to secure the other, when an Irishwoman be-
longing to the camp interfered, and, with the rough humanity
of her class, swore that whoever touched the shattered leg
should feel her nails ; and therewith she displayed a set of
most formidable talons, the sight of which effectually turned
the villains from their prey.

Mr. Motte died in January, 1781 ; and not long after this
sad event Mrs. Motte obtained permission to leave Charleston,
and retired at once to her plantation on the Congaree, thirty
or forty miles from Columbia. The house was a large and
comfortable one, beautifully situated on a rising ground,
commanding a fine view of the river and the surrounding
country.

Here for a short time the widow and her daughters re-
mained in undisturbed seclusion. But the situation of the
place, so admirably suited for defense, soon recommended it
to the English as a proper point for erecting one of the line
of military stations by which for a long time they completely
controlled a large portion of the State. It was on the direct
road from Charleston to Camden, and was used at first as a
stopping-place in conveying supplies of all kinds to various
parts of the interior. At length the British threw up earth-
works around the house, which went by the name of Fort
Motte ; but the family were allowed for some time longer to
retain the use of a few rooms. The British officers, indeed,
treated the mistress of the house with much deference, and
as long as she remained in the fort pretended, at least, to per-
mit no molestation of her personal property. It is even said
that a civil and formal request was invariably sent to her by the
commanding officer for leave to appropriate to the use of the
garrison each separate pair of fowls that was abstracted from
her poultry-yard. Yet their conscientious scruples apparently

270 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

did not extend beyond the hen-coops; for it is very certain that
their presence entailed far more serious losses on Mrs. Motte.
A letter from Colonel Tarleton, still extant, refers to the fact
that some of the soldiers had taken off her horses, but de-
clares his willingness to return them. Long afterward he
was made to suffer for at least conniving at this act. General
Thomas Pinckney, when Minister from the United States to
England, happened to meet Tarleton, and was introduced to
him as the son-in-law of Mrs. Motte, " whose horses," added the
introducer, " you know, you stole when you were in Carolina."
The American troops having succeeded in capturing one
of the enemy's posts nearest to Fort Motte, Major Mc-
Pherson, the British officer in command, afraid, perhaps, to
harbor so declared an enemy, desired Mrs. Motte to remain
no longer in his camp. She therefore betook herself, with
her family, to a small house within the limits of the planta-
tion. It was a rough structure, weather-boarded, but only
partially lined, with no attempt at plastering. The ladies,
knowing that they would be subjected to marauding parties
of the English, were at first at a loss where to conceal such
valuables as they had brought with them from Fort Motte.
It was impossible even to bury their silver without the ser-
vants knowing of it ; and Mrs. Motte wisely decided against
putting their fidelity to any unnecessary test. At length some
one suggested that the unfinished state of the walls of their
sitting-room afforded a convenient hiding-place ; and they set
to work to avail themselves of it. Nailing tacks in the
vacancy between the outer and inner boarding, and tying
strings around the various pieces of silver, they hung them
along the inner wall. Shortly afterwards a band of marauders
did actually invade the premises ; and one more audacious
than the others jumped on a chair and thrust his bayonet
into the hollow wall, saying he would soon find what they
had come in search of; but, rapping all along on the floor
within the wall, he did not once strike against anything to
reward his bad perseverance. A quaint little sugar-dish of
highly-wrought English silver is still shown by a great-grand-

REBECCA MOTTE.

27l

daughter of Mrs. Motte's, as one of the relics preserved by
her ingenuity.

The American troops, under Marion and Lee, advanced
rapidly to the siege of Fort Motte, and were joyfully received
and hospitably entertained by Mrs. Motte in her new quarters.
Meantime a reinforcement of the enemy were reported to be
on the way to relieve Major McPherson, and, that object once
effected, there would be no further thought of surrendering
the fort. The siege had lasted several days, and there re-
mained but one way of ending it speedily and successfully.
It occurred to General Marion that by firing the roof of the
house which served at once as headquarters and centre of the
British fortification this end might be attained ; and, with many
regrets at the military necessity for destroying the home and
valuable property of his kind hostess, Light-Horse Harry
Lee told her of his design. Curiously enough, on the day
that the family were ordered out of Fort Motte, one of them,
as she left the house, picked up and carried off for safe keep-
ing a small quiver of arrows which had many years before
been presented to Mr. Miles Brewton by a captain who had
brought them from the East Indies, and who declared that
they would set on fire any wooden substance against which
they struck. It is also said that they were poisoned, and
that a British officer handling one incautiously was warned
of the fact. Be this as it may, these arrows deserve a place
in history. Mrs. Motte's reply to Colonel Lee's proposal was
characteristic. " Do not hesitate a moment," she said. " I
will give you something to facilitate the destruction." And
then she went in search of the three East India arrows.
There was no bow : so they were shot from a gun. With in-
tense excitement the flight of the first was watched. It fell
quietly and harmlessly. The second had no more effect.
Then some one suggested that they should wait until later in
the day, when the roof had been well dried by the rays of the
sun. At length, about midday, the third and last arrow was
dispatched, and in a little while a thin curl of smoke rising
from the shingles told the watchers that it had well done its

2/2

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

work. The garrison soon discovered their new danger, and
made vigorous efforts to extinguish the flames, so that it be-
came necessary for the besiegers to direct the fire of their
guns on the point where the staircase gave access to the roof.
In a short time a white flag took the place of the British
colors, and Fort Motte fell into the hands of its wily besiegers.
It was not too late to save the house even then ; and the
American soldiers showed their appreciation of the patriotic
spirit of their countrywoman by making the most strenuous
exertions to save her property, so that only the roof was
consumed. Seven years later, however, an unfortunate acci-
dent burnt the house to the ground.

The quiver, emptied of its fateful arrows, but ever after kept
with laudable sentiment, hung in Mrs. Motte's parlor, holding
no longer weapons of any kind but harmless knitting-needles.
Whenever, in after-time, Mrs. Motte's part in the surrender
of the fort was alluded to in her presence, she would say,
simply, "Too much has been made of a thing that any Ameri-
can woman would have done."

The day after the surrender she entertained the British and
American officers at the same table, and won golden opinions
from them all. Years afterward she received a pleasant token
of the esteem in which she was held by those of the enemy
who learned to know her. An English officer to whom she
had extended some kindness happened to see in a book-stall
in London a Bible and prayer-book which had been presented
by Mrs. Motte to the old Episcopal church on the Santee.
Her name and this fact were inscribed on the books, which
had doubtless been carried off by some sacrilegious thieves
who despoiled the church during the war. The officer im-
mediately bought the books, and sent them once more across
the water to the original giver.

The prayer-book was, of course, laid aside, as unsuited to
the new order of things; but the old Bible is still read in the
queer little brick church where Mrs. Motte worshiped during
many years of her long life.

After the taking of Fort Motte the tide of war gradually

REBECCA MOTTE. 2/3

turned, and success declared at last on the side of the Ameri-
cans. But it was not till December, 1782, that the incubus
of British occupation was finally removed from Charleston.

When the war at length ended, Mrs. Motte's large estate
had become much incumbered by debt, incurred principally
on behalf of various friends of the family; and with character-
istic energy and determination she set herself the task of
managing and, if possible, clearing the property of this heavy
burden. She built a large and handsome house on her Santee
lands, and there she lived for some years through autumn,
winter, and spring, repairing in the sickly summer season to
Murphy's Island, a small strip of land where the Santee falls
into the ocean, some miles below her winter residence.

This whole Santee neighborhood is full of stories and recol-
lections of the days of the Revolution. One of the most
picturesque old places on the river was owned at that time by
Mrs. Horry, the sister of Charles and Thomas Pinckney, and
a great friend of Mrs. Motte. On one occasion General
Marion, when hard pressed by the British, sought refuge in
her house. But he had not been there long when the good
lady, who had gone to prepare dinner for him, rushed in, cry-
ing, " Fly for your life, general ! The red-coats are upon
you." Marion had taken the precaution of hitching his horse
by the river-side; and the spot is still shown where he leaped
into his saddle and swam across stream to an island in the
broad Santee, out of reach of his pursuers.

All the stories are not equally dramatic. Another, which
has a strong touch of the burlesque, attaches itself to the
Pinckney place, situated a little farther down the river. It
tells of a certain Colonel or Major Pendleton, who was carefully
wrapped up for concealment in a roll of carpets in the garret.
The Britishers searched the house from loft to basement, and
found no trace of their game. But Colonel Pendleton had
one incurable weakness : it was for turkey-giblets ; and when
from his hiding-place he, in an evil hour, overheard the cook
killing a turkey in preparation for dinner, he lost all prudence
in his desire for this favorite dish, and called out from the

18

274 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

window, "Save the giblets for me!" The soldiers caught his
words, flew immediately up-stairs, and bore off their prisoner
in triumph.

The Santee church, of which mention has been made, was
built in great part by the liberality of Jacob Motte ; and a
document is still to be seen assigning one of the pews to him
in recognition of this. The old-fashioned church stands by
the road amidst the great pine forest that extends for many
miles southward from the banks of the Santee. There is still
to be found in the uninclosed church-yard a grave which,
with its warning inscription, must have been familiar to the
eyes of Revolutionary generations. It is said to be the rest-
ing-place of a carpenter who fell from the roof of the church
while it was being built. It is marked by a cypress head-
board so old and weather-beaten that the letters long ago
marked on it are rendered legible now by being raised from
the surrounding wood, which, left unpainted, has been more
rapidly worn by the constant action of sun and rain. The
words run, —

" Stranger who now are passing by,
As you are now, so once was I;
As I am now, so shall you be :
Therefore prepare to follow me."

There is perhaps no private sphere of life affording a wider
field for the constant exercise of all the Christian and humane
virtues than a large Southern plantation ; and here, more even
than in the other scenes of life, Mrs. Motte's peculiar excel-
lences shone forth in all their brightness. Here her liberality
displayed itself in unfailing attention to the comfort of those
dependent on her. In sickness her place was ever at the
bedside, carrying out the doctor's directions herself, and con-
tributing her own experience and rare good judgment to alle-
viate suffering and hasten recovery. " I well remember," says
one of her great-grandchildren, speaking of Mrs. Motte's plan-
tation-life, "the gifts at Christmas, when old and young, even
babies, would come up to the house to wish Old Mistress a
merry Christmas, and none returned empty-handed to their

REBECCA MOTTE.

275

dances and merry-making for three days." The place she
held in the affection of her negroes was shown for many and
many a year after her death by the pride with which the old
men and women would boast that they had belonged to and
well remembered the dear old Missis. Her relations with all
classes of her inferiors were ever most kindly; and the wide
charity which was her most prominent trait gained her un-
bounded influence with them, which was always judiciously
exercised.

She was entirely successful, not only in paying off the
debts of her husband's estate, but in improving it for the ben-
efit of her children. The two younger daughters married re-
spectively Mr. John Middleton and Colonel William Alston ;
and in the course of years the house in King Street grew merry
again with the voices of numerous grandchildren, the youngest
of whom still graces the old home with her sweet presence.

There are now living more than a hundred descendants of
Mrs. Motte, belonging to the most respectable families of
Carolina.

That Mrs. Motte had great practical capacity may be in-
ferred from her management of her affairs. Until within a few
years her business correspondence was extant, bearing witness
to her unusual administrative powers; but it perished with
most of the family records and heirlooms. A few letters
written in her old age to one of her daughters remain, and
give evidence in every line of her tender thoughtfulness of
others, her active interest in what concerned the welfare
of her friends and neighbors, and the energy with which she
still attended to her daily duties. As we reverently turn the
old, embrowned pages, the simple beauty of the unselfish life
they bear witness to strikes us more and more forcibly.

"Saturday, September loth, 1806.

" I received your letter, my dear Child, by Scipio, on Wed-
nesday last, with the Shawl, which is very handsome, and I
shall wear it for your sake ; pray don't work any more cap
cauls, for I have enough by me. I send by Scipio two pairs

2/6 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of socks for Mr. Alston,* and will send the others when done:
pray when you write let me know if they fit him. . . . Tell
B.f I am sorry to hear she is so lazy and indolent ; you must
let her come and stay with me the winter, and I will endeavor
to make her more active : I expect to be a good deal alone.
I am glad to hear you all keep well. I hope it may continue.
Kiss your little girls for me, and tell them I have nothing to
send them on this Island ; but when I go to town I will send
them some goodies by a schooner."

" I was rejoiced, my dear Child, to hear by Flora you were
all well. I hope Mr. Alston is quite recovered. Don't dis-
tress yourself about not coming to see me. I did not expect
it ; for from all the sickness you have had in your family this
summer, and the removal from the sea-shore to Clifton, and
the loss of your house, and the confusion it must have thrown
you in, it was impossible for you to leave home. Therefore,
my dear Child, I did not expect it. But whenever Mr. Alston
goes to town you can then come. But I think you must want
to go to town yourself to get some necessaries after your
loss. Now, my dear, I would have you go to town with Mr.
Alston, and leave the girls with me until your return. I am
very sorry to hear poor old Bess! is so ill: she will be a great
loss to you. . . . Mrs. Horry's family are all at Hampton, and
well ; she desires her love to you. They dined with us on
Christmas day : sixteen sat down to dinner. My love to M.
and C. and B. and the dear little girls and boys. ... I send
a few hops, and am sorry I have no more : the rains have
destroyed all ours and Mrs. Horry's."

" EL DORADO.^ 1806.

" Now I have told you all the news I know of, I will inform
you about my crop. I have a better prospect of a good crop
than I ever had ; there were more pains taken in planting :

* Her son-in-law.

f A granddaughter who grew up to be remarkable for energy and diligence
as well as amiability.

J An old slave. \ The plantation.

REBECCA MOTTE.

all my seed-rice was hand-picked ; and if rice is but a good
price next year I shall pay all my debts, I hope. Five large
ships arrived yesterday and to-day. I have not heard where
they came from. . . . My love to M. and C. and my dear B.
I hope when I see her next I shall find her much improved,
and all the dear boys. Kiss L. and H. for me, and am your
affectionate

" Mother,

" R. MOTTE."

We have glanced at the picture of Rebecca Motte in her
youth. Here is a sketch of her as she appeared in age to the
eyes of a far younger generation. It is penned by one of her
great-grandchildren, to whom she was always the impersona-
tion of indulgent motherly kindness and love. " She was
rather under-sized and slender, with a pale face, blue eyes, and
gray hair that curled slightly under a high-crowned ruffled
mob-cap. She always wore a square white neckerchief pinned
down in front, tight sleeves reaching only to the elbow, with
black silk mittens on her hands and arms ; a full skirt with
huge pockets, and at her waist a silver chain, from which
hung her pin-cushion and scissors and a peculiarly bright
bunch of keys."

Respected and beloved by all around her, thus she lived on
through the gathering years, whose weight she hardly seemed
to feel, so bright and strong her mind continued, so sweet
and loving her temper, so firm her bodily health.

A character like hers, so made up of all good things, and
in which whatever flaws originally existed were so overlaid by
prominent virtues as to be invisible, will appear to many un-
natural. Others, more happy in their experience of human-
ity, and whom personal acquaintance with natures rare as
hers has convinced of their existence, look trustfully to them
in hours of depression, despondency, and darkness, as the one
shining link left always visible that connects our poor sad
earth with heaven.

Rebecca Motte was laid to rest in the old St. Philip's

2/8 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Church, which was burnt many years ago, but which occupied
the site on which the present church of that name stands.
A slab with the following inscription was placed in honor
of her :

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF REBECCA MOTTE.

IN HER THE MEEKNESS AND FERVENT PIETY OF THE CHRISTIAN,

THE MOST BENEVOLENT OF HUMAN HEARTS,

AND THE MOST HUMBLE AND UNOBTRUSIVE DEMEANOR,

WERE HAPPILY BLENDED WITH THE FIRM PATRIOTISM

OF THE SPARTAN MATRON.
*************

THE TEARS OF THE INDIGENT, TO WHOM SHE ACTED AS A SISTER,

TESTIFY HER UNBOUNDED CHARITY.
THE UNFEIGNED SORROW OF THE CIRCLE IN WHICH SHE MOVED,

AND OF WHICH SHE WAS THE ORNAMENT
AND THE DELIGHT, PROCLAIM HOW AMIABLE AND UNASSUMING

WERE HER SOCIAL TALENTS;

AND HER BEREAVED AND DISCONSOLATE CHILDREN

DEDICATE THIS MARBLE TO COMMEMORATE THE EXCELLENCE

OF THE DOMESTIC CHARACTER OF THEIR PARENT.

Those who have followed her story as far as it has been
possible to give its outline in these brief pages will hardly
question the merited genuineness of this tender praise. But
far more enduring than this monument to her worth has
proved is the loving and proud reverence in which her
memory is held by her many grandchildren and their chil-
dren, some of whom still have their home in the old house
and beautiful garden which Time and her name have done so
much to render venerable.

DEBORAH LOGAN,

THE QUAKER LADY.

To all conversant with the early history of Pennsylvania
the names of Norris and Logan are well known. The founder
of the former family came as a lad to this country from Ja-
maica in 1690, whither his father had immigrated from the
Isle of Wight. Returning to the West Indies after two years'
absence, Isaac Norris found that his home and family had
been engulfed by the memorable earthquake which destroyed
Port Royal : the vessel which bore him out actually sailed
over the site of his father's house. He gathered together the
remnants of his fortune, and, with hardly more than a hun-
dred pounds sterling, came back to America, being then about
twenty-one. This terrible beginning of life was followed by
nearly half a century of unbroken prosperity. He married a
daughter of Governor Lloyd, of Pennsylvania, by whom he
had fourteen children. He had the happiness of revisiting
his birthplace and friends in England ; he made a beautiful
home for himself near Philadelphia, on a fine estate, which he
called Fairhill ; he filled a number of important public posi-
tions with distinction, among which were those of member of
the Council, Speaker of the Assembly, and Chief Justice of the
State, until death overtook him in the Friends' Meeting-House
in Germantown, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. What a
singular career, so stripped at its outset, so successful, so full
of honors at its close ! He comes before us with the awful
catastrophe at Jamaica, and passes calmly out of sight from
the house of God on a summer Sabbath morning, June 4, 1735.
When the sudden stroke fell, he was carried at once to Stenton,
the seat of his friend James Logan, which was nearer than

279

280 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Fairhill, in the vain hope of restoring him ; and thus in this
final scene the ancestors of our heroine and her husband ap-
pear together under the roof which in course of time was to
be hers.

James Logan's early life had not been without vicissitudes.
His father, destined for the Church of England, became a
Quaker, and relinquished his profession and country for the
sake of religious independence. He settled in Ireland, but
was forced to leave it by the war of 1689, his family following
him in his wanderings, first to Scotland, then to England.
His son James was about twenty-five when William Penn was
attracted by his ability and acquirements and proposed taking
the young man to America as his private secretary. Logan's
family opposed his accepting this offer, and he was obliged
to sail without their consent, which he did in September,
1699. His character and intelligence soon won the entire
confidence of Penn, who on his return to England, two years
after their arrival in America, left Logan secretary of the prov-
ince. As years went on, he filled other high posts, including
that of President of the Council, and, like his friend Isaac
Norris, died Chief Justice of Pennsylvania, October 31, 1751,
having reached the age of seventy-seven with undiminished
mental powers, although his bodily strength and health had
suffered during his latter years from a severe fall he had got
in riding. Learning and philanthropy had a large share in
this life which was so filled besides with cares of business and
state : his house was the resort of men of letters and science ;
his correspondents at home and abroad were those of the
same pursuits ; in days when books were rare and dear,
brought with trouble and cost from the Old World, he collected
a noble library, which he bequeathed to his townsfolk, who
had shortly before made their first public attempt in that di-
rection. In the following generation a member of the family
enriched the Philadelphia and Loganian Library by a dona-
tion of two thousand volumes: yet still books gathered at
Stenton. Like Penn, he was the friend and protector of the
Indians, who sometimes paid him visits of several weeks at a

DEBORAH LOGAN. 28l

time, encamping round his house three and four hundred
strong.

Such were the commencements of the Norris and Logan
families in this country, where by the middle of the last cen-
tury they had taken firm root and thrown out numerous off-
shoots. Deborah, the subject of our memoir, was the second
child and only daughter of Charles, a younger son of Isaac
Norris, Jr., and Mary Parker, of Chester, Delaware County,
whose parents had come over from Yorkshire early in the
eighteenth century. Charles Norris had built a fine residence
in Chestnut Street below Fifth, on the site of the present
custom-house. It was more like a villa than a town-house,
with tiers of piazzas and a beautiful garden. There were
greenhouses and hothouses, among the products of which,
most unusual for that day, were pineapples. The garden
reached to Fifth Street, and the State-house grounds extended,
as now, along the opposite side. Beyond, on the same side of
the way, there were but two buildings, both of wood. It was
the western extremity of town. In our day, when the city
west of the Schuylkill is almost thrice as populous as that
west of the Delaware was then, it is hard to form an idea of
the Philadelphia of Deborah Norris's childhood. There is a
curious old wood-cut in the National Museum at Independence
Hall, showing a mere strip of houses along the river's edge,
backed by densely-wooded hills, with a little fort, whence
flies the British flag in one corner.

Deborah was born October 19, 1761, in the fine house at
Fifth and Chestnut Streets. She lost her father when she
was between four and five years old, and the charge of her
and three brothers (all four born between July, 1760, and
July, 1765) devolved upon her mother. Whatever the quali-
ties and merits of Charles Norris may have been, it is certain
that his daughter inherited much of her strong, well-balanced
nature and studious turn from her mother. She grew towards
girlhood amid the thickening troubles of the country, of which
Philadelphia was the centre. She was early used to meeting
all sorts of people. At her mother's house she saw many

282 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

members of that Congress whose roll is the American peerage.
John Hancock, Henry Laurens, of South Carolina, a brilliant,
striking man, and others hardly less distinguished, were drawn
to the Quaker widow's fireside by the lively common sense
of her talk. At Fairhill, too, where her Norris cousins lived,
she met most of the signers of the Declaration of Independ-
ence, and in after-life jotted down some fragmentary recollec-
tions of them. Francis Lightfoot Lee made a lasting impres-
sion upon her by his " Roman physiognomy." She was
rather hard upon John Penn, who struck her as an insignifi-
cant person whose decisive steps were the result of the press-
ure of circumstances, not of natural force : " he seemed to me
a very foolish person ;" but she adds, " he used to pretend
to be an admirer of mine. He was very homely, and wore a
tie-wig. Now, my little tittering hussies, you all laugh at
your great-grandmother's admirer in his tie-wig !" A touch
of girlish disdain may have affected her opinion of this worthy.
" I was very young then, but somewhat observant." So it
appears. She was full of spirits long unsubdued to demure-
ness by her Quaker training. She was sent to school to the
philanthropic, eminently humane Anthony Benezet, who gov-
erned his pupils by studying their dispositions and appealing
to their higher qualities. He discovered that the only curb
which could hold in check Deborah's sense of fun was her
sense of honor. For some reason, the Quaker practice of
using the Christian name, which on the lips of some Friends
has an almost apostolic simplicity and sweetness, was not in
force at Mr. Benezet's school, and the rough custom (though
he must have made it sound gentle) of calling the girls by
their family names prevailed : when he left the school-room
he found that the best way of keeping order and keeping
" Norris" in order was to appoint her monitress. She con-
fessed afterwards that she had not made the best of her time
and his teaching. Shortly after leaving school she became so
conscious of her deficiencies that she undertook a course of
reading and study, which she pursued with so much energy
that in a short time she acquired more than she had done

DEBORAH LOGAN.

283

during all her school years. Such a resolution and so much
steadiness in carrying it out would be creditable to a young
girl of the present day. To value it fully in Deborah, we
must remember how differently the whole question of educa-
tion, especially female education, was considered a hundred
years ago : it was pretty much summed up in the sampler
and the spelling-book, and, to judge by the orthography of
many a fine lady, the latter was held of minor importance.
The standard was immeasurably low; women of fashion were
required to be agreeable and amusing, and for the most
part were so by dint of mother wit ; with Quakers in this
country mental cultivation has always been an individual dis-
tinction, and the fair Friends were expected only to be do-
mestic and notable. None of the ambition of the present day
was awakened, which stirs up every clever girl to show that
against wind and tide she can make as much headway as a
boy of her age. Add to this the difficulty of obtaining
masters, the comparative fewness of books, the absence of
the intellectual element in conversation and correspondence,
when the best minds were engrossed by passing events. Nev-
ertheless, the brave and spirited girl put herself to work, and,
besides speedily making up for lost time, formed habits of
literary occupation which lasted throughout life.

She was about fifteen at the time of the Declaration of Inde-
pendence, of which she was an ear-witness. She had clam-
bered upon the garden-fence to get sight of what was going
on ; but the view was shut off by a low frame building in In-
dependence Square which had been put up for astronomical
purposes. These are her recollections of that momentous
morning. " How a little time spreads the mantle of oblivion
over the manner of the most important events ! It is now a
matter of doubt at what hour or how the Declaration was
given to the people : perhaps few remain who heard it read on
that day; of those few I am one, being in the lot adjoining to
our old mansion in Chestnut Street, that then extended to
Fifth. I distinctly heard the words of that instrument read
to the people (I believe from the State-house steps, for I did

284 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

not see the speaker). ... I think it was Charles Thomson's
voice. It took place a little after twelve at noon, and they
then proceeded down the street (I understood), to read it at
the court-house. It was a time of fearful doubt and great
anxiety with the people, many of whom were appalled at the
boldness of the measure, and the first audience of the Decla-
ration was neither very numerous nor composed of the most
respectable class of citizens." We look back now and picture
to ourselves a united multitude, wrought up by enthusiasm
and ardor beyond misgivings, listening to the words of the
majestic group who had decided the destinies of the nation,
and then sweeping onward to proclaim and spread the great
news to a rejoicing land. Here is the real scene : a knot of
men oppressed by the sense of consequences ; a small and
somewhat shabby crowd ; one figure whose face, like the heads-
man's, is forever hidden, standing on what John Adams called
" that awful platform ;" an eager school-girl clinging to the wall
of her father's garden, drinking in the words of the invisible
speaker.

In the autumn of the same year she again comes before us,
in the pages of a young friend, Sally Wister, another lively
little Quakeress, whose family left Philadelphia, apprehending
the entrance of the British troops, and retired to a farm in
North Wales, a district about twenty miles from town, in the
direction of Valley Forge. During this exile, which lasted
nearly two years, she kept a journal for the future perusal
of her " dear Debby Norris," as they had no means of ex-
changing letters. North Wales was settled by an exodus
from the old country not long after the first immigration
under Edward Jones, who took up the townships of Upper
and Lower Merion in his own name for the numerous cousin-
hood who accompanied him. They were all families of sub-
stance and respectability in their native Merionethshire, and
have remained so through succeeding generations in the land
of their adoption. It was no doubt in consequence of their
taking so kindly to the new soil that a few years later, at
the very beginning of the last century, arrived more Welsh

DEBORAH LOGAN. 285

colonists, Davids, Ffoulkes, etc., who settled east of the Schuyl-
lg'11, near the rise of the Wissahiccon, and called their villages

D

by the old names of the motherland, Gwynedd and Penlyn.
The Wisters, of a German stock who had intermarried with
them, now sought a quiet retreat in the midst of their Kelt-
American kinsfolk ; but there was no nook so secluded within
the meridian of a large city but that some signs and sounds of
war found their way thither. Officers of the American army
were quartered on many of the inhabitants of North Wales,
and the young girl's journal relates the alarms and affrights of
herself and her cousins " Liddy and Prissa" from tipsy militia,
marauding light-horse, and imaginary Hessians, — the terror of
all country neighborhoods. The charms of our own officers
provoke her utmost eloquence, — although she always writes
from the comic point of view, making fun of her fears and
laughing at her sentiment ; but could a position be fancied
more dangerous to the peace of a Quaker-bred damsel ?
" How new is our situation ! I feel in good spirits, though
surrounded by an army, the house full of officers, the yard
alive with soldiers ! — very peaceable sort of people, tho' ; they
eat like other folks, talk like them, and behave themselves with
elegance, so I will not be afraid of them, that I won't ! Adieu.
I am going to my chamber, to dream, I suppose, of bayonets
and swords, sashes, guns, and epaulets."

She takes so much pride in being invincible that one sus-
pects she now and then felt her heart of fifteen in peril. The
Virginians are the prime heroes and favorites. One day a
new party arrives, and Miss Sally, struck with the appearance
of the commanding officer, inquires his name. ' ' Captain
Dyer.' Oh ! the name. . . . Take a circumstantial account
of this afternoon and the person of this extraordinary man.
His exterior first. His name is not Dyer, but Alexander
Spotswood Dandridge, which certainly gives a genteel idea
of the man. I will be particular. His person is more
elegantly formed than any I ever seen (sic) ; tall and com-
manding ; his forehead is very white, though the lower part
of his face is much sunburnt; his features are extremely

286 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

pleasing ; an even, white set of teeth ; dark hair and eyes. I
can't describe him better than by saying he is the handsomest
man I ever beheld. Betsy and Liddy coincide in this opinion.
. . . The moon gave a sadly pleasing light. We sat at the
door till nine. Dandridge is sensible, and (divested of some
freedoms which might be called gallant in the fashionable
world) he is polite and agreeable. His greatest fault is a
propensity to swearing, which throws a shade over his ac-
complishments. I asked him why he did so. 'It is a
favorite vice of mine, Miss Sally.' At nine he went to his
chamber : sets off at sunrise.

"Fourth day morn., 12 o'dk. — I was awakened this morning
with a great racket of the captain's servant calling him, but
the lazy fellow never rose till about half an hour eight !
This his daylight ride ! I imagined they would be gone be-
fore now, so I dressed in a green skirt and dark short-gown.
Provoking ! So down I came, this captain (wild wretch !)
standing at the back door. He bowe(d, and called me. I only
looked, and went to breakfast. About nine I took my work
and seated myself in the parlor. Not long had I sat when in
came Dandridge, — the handsomest man in existence, at least
that I had seen. But stop here while I just say, the night
before, chatting upon dress, he said he had no patience with
those officers who every morn before they went on detach-
ment would wait to be dressed and powdered. ' I am,' said
I, ' excessively fond of powder, and think it very becoming.'
'Are you?' he replied. ' I am very careless, as often wearing
my cap thus' (turning the back part before) ' as any way.' I
left off at where he come in. He was powdered very white,
a (pretty-colored) brown coat lapelled with green, and white
waistcoat, etc. ; his

' sword beside him negligently hung.'

He made a truly elegant figure. ' Good-morning, Miss Sally.
You are very well, I hope ?' ' Very well : pray sit down,' —
which he did, close by me. ' Oh, dear !' said I, ' I see thee is
powdered ?' ' Yes, ma'am. I have dressed myself off for

DEBORAH LOGAN.

287

you.' Will I be excused, Debby, if I look upon his being
powdered in the light of a compliment to me? Yes, Sally,
as thee is a country maid and don't often meet with compli-
ments. Saucy Debby Norris !"

She constantly introduces imaginary dialogues between
herself and her absent friend, in which the latter always gives
her good advice in a bantering tone. Sally Wister was a
stanch patriot, and repudiates Captain Dandridge's accusa-
tion of being a Tory. She will not even write the hateful
term in full, but speaks of them as T — y and T — s, which
many of the Society of Friends undoubtedly were. But not
Mrs. Norris and her young daughter, who watched the
progress of the struggle for liberty with intense interest and
sympathy, their house, as we have seen, being open to the
leaders of the Revolution, while the fair Shippens and Chews
were smiling on the British officers. School-days were over,
and, while industriously following the plan of study she had
laid out for herself, Deborah took her place in her mother's
drawing-room to aid in receiving the curiously-mixed society
which met there. A little story remains of that period, illus-
trating the good feeling and good breeding which, when com-
bined as in her, make the perfect hostess. One day the
Chevalier de Ternan* (a young Frenchman in our service,
distinguished for wit, talent, and acquirement) happened to
call on Mrs. Norris when the room was full of old friends
and persons of their own religious persuasion, between whom
and the accomplished foreigner there seemed little in common.
Deborah looked anxiously round, and presently singled out
Humphrey Marshall, a distinguished naturalist, but a man
of the plainest address, and presented them to each other,
adroitly turning the conversation upon botany, which she
knew to be a favorite science of De Ternan's, and then left
them, to look after other guests. After a long talk, De Ternan
came up to her with the inquiry, " Miss Norris, have you many
such men as this Mr. Marshall among you ?" Of the cheva-

* Vide Travels of the Marquis de Chastellux, vol. i.

288 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

lier she afterwards made mention on some rather unfavora-
ble remarks upon him in Sir John Sinclair's correspondence,
where, however, he is spoken of as a " very able and insin-
uating man, speaking English perfectly well." She says,
after quoting the passage, " I was well acquainted with
Ternan, and thought him a very agreeable, as he certainly
was a very accomplished, man. He meant to have settled
here, and was engaged to be married to Betsey Cadwalader,
one of Dr. Cadwalader's daughters, who was neither young,
beautiful, nor rich, but a sensible, agreeable woman. She
died, and he soon after left the country."

Deborah did not long remain at home to help her mother's
guests out of their little difficulties. During the last year of
the Revolutionary War, when not quite twenty, she married
Dr. George Logan, the grandson of the Secretary and Chief
Justice of Pennsylvania. Of their acquaintance and court-
ship there is no record ; but they had probably always known
each other, as both belonged to the old Quaker stock of
Philadelphia, their ancestors had been friends and neighbors,
and there had been an intermarriage between the families in
the previous generation. Nor do we know whether this was
the sprightly though discreet young lady's first love; but
there is every reason to believe so. In after-years his was
the only name, the only image, her heart ever recalled : as we
follow her history, we come to the conviction that Deborah
Norris had loved but one man, and him she loved with her
whole heart for her whole life.

Dr. Logan was born at Stenton, Qth September, 1753. He
went to England first to school as a little boy, later to study
medicine, completing his course in Edinburgh and Paris. He
was in the latter city while Franklin was on his diplomatic
mission to France, and was treated with much friendliness by
the great man, who in his own early days had received kind-
ness from James Logan, the young Philadelphian's grand-
father. On his return to America, in the autumn of 1780,
Franklin gave him letters to various prominent citizens, com-
mending his ability, worth, and especially his patriotism. Dr.

DEBORAH LOGAN.

289

Logan had pursued the study of his profession under diffi-
culty and opposition : his elder brother was a physician, and
their father wished the younger son to go into business. He
went through the necessary training, but gave every, spare
moment to books on the healing science, and at an early age
had sufficient knowledge and skill to inoculate himself for
smallpox. At length the strength of his vocation, seconded
by the urgency of his brother, prevailed with his father, and
he was allowed to follow his natural bent. But circumstances
were too strong for him in the end. When he reached home
from his studies and travels, brother and parents were gone :
they had died within a short time of one another. The farm
of Stenton had been pillaged, and the house had narrowly
escaped burning at the hands of the British. A party detailed
by Colonel Twisleton, afterwards Lord Saye and Sele, to de-
stroy the property of leading rebels, came to the house, then
occupied only by an old family servant, and told her, as a
special favor, that she might remove anything of her own she
wished to save, as they were going to set fire to the building.
In spite of her entreaties, they went to the barn to fetch straw
for the purpose ; but at this moment an officer, with drawn
sword, galloped up, to inquire about deserters. She answered
promptly that there were some now hiding in the barn. He
routed them out, and drove them off before him, notwith-
standing their protestations. Thus that beautiful, venerable
mansion was saved from the fate of Fairhill and sixteen other
fine country-places in the neighborhood. The farm, however,
was devastated, "and," says Dr. Logan's wife, writing his
memoir nearly half a century afterwards, " when its owner
returned to Pennsylvania, the war and its consequences had
left him nothing to receive at the hands of his father's execu-
tors but wasted estates and piles of utterly depreciated paper
currency." During the winter of 1781-82, Stenton had
been placed by Dr. Logan at the disposal of the refugees
from Charleston, which was then occupied by the British.
Among others, General Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, his
brother, Major Thomas Pinckney, and Edward Rutledge,

19

290 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

afterwards Governor of South Carolina, with their families,
found a haven under this hospitable roof, and fire-wood from
the noble timber of the estate roared in the great tiled chim-
ney-places, to give these exiles such warmth of cheer as the
North affords. " They were most of them persons of com-
petent estates," says the memoir, " but the situation of their
country, in possession of the enemy's forces, rendering it im-
possible for them to command money, they found themselves
in very distressing circumstances at that period. ... It is
difficult now to conceive the distresses and embarrassments
which attended this period of our affairs. Dr. Logan found
it difficult to obtain a small sum on loan, notwithstanding the
ample security which he had to offer." It was at this juncture
of his fortunes that Dr. Logan married, in September, 1781,
being twenty-eight years old, his bride, eight years younger.
It is consistent with the invariable absence of egotism and
concern about what merely regards herself that Mrs. Logan,
as we must henceforth call her, does not mention where her
home was immediately after her marriage. Her absorbing
thought was her husband. This is the portrait of him which
her fond pen traced in after-years when she lived only in the
memory of the blessed past. " His person was formed with
exact symmetry, about the middle size, erect and graceful in
his demeanor ; his countenance would not easily be forgotten
by any person who had once seen him; it had an expression of
thought, benignity, and of open, unsuspecting honesty that was
very remarkable. He walked and rode extremely well : indeed,
when on horseback his air and appearance was noble ; and in
his youth he was remarkably active. His mind was wholly
unpolluted by avarice. His heart was tender, and he was often
led to sympathize with others in their distress and difficulties.
Yet he had a quickness of temper, and could show, on occa-
sion, the utmost spirit and resolution, for his personal courage
was great. He was a most true republican, contemning luxury
and despising false glory. I may be asked for the reverse of
this picture. To me he had no reverse, but was exactly the
kind, good, upright man which I have here represented him."

DEBORAH LOGAN. 2$l

Nobody has given us a portrait of the writer ; nor did she,
like her fair contemporaries in France, leave us a flattering
likeness of herself in pen-and-ink. There is no one left
to tell us how " saucy Debby Norris" looked at twenty —
whether she was blonde or brunette, pale or blooming. Some
still remember her as a beautiful, dignified old lady, with a
manner of infinite kindliness and suavity, wearing her plain
dark skirt and short-gown, cap, and kerchief, with a great air.
The picture of her by Connarroe, in the possession of Miss
M. N. Logan, taken when she was seventy or upwards, shows
a fine oval face, long aquiline nose, slightly prominent under
lip, bright, steady brown eyes, a remarkable harmony in the
whole countenance, a sweet habit of physiognomy which
yet is not a smile, and a girlish freshness and delicacy of
complexion which she kept until the last: the benignity and
urbanity of expression are most winning. It is evident that
she must have been a very handsome young woman. But if she
had been the plainest of her sex the heart that shone through
her features would have irradiated them with loveliness.

She chose poverty and privation when she left her easy
home for this needy young heir, and, although under his
excellent management and the returning prosperity of the
country his affairs were soon in a satisfactory condition, for
some reason or other her means never seem to have exceeded
a competency. But in those days, with a few exceptions,
wealth and a liberal scale of living in Philadelphia did not
imply luxury or extravagance; and this child of rich parents
either brought with her, or soon acquired, habits of thrift and
frugality which enabled her to live in comfort, with no un-
worthy and uneasy preoccupations about household matters.
The condition of Dr. Logan's property compelled him to
give up the idea of practicing his profession, and less than a
year after their marriage they moved to Stenton. This fine
old seat was built in 1728, by James Logan, in the midst of
a wide tract of undulating land, through which winds a small
stream, the Wingohocking, an Indian name said to mean
" crooked water." He reclaimed his acres from the primeval

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

forest, of which some grand survivors still linger amid the
tracks of streets which have been opened through their realm,
as one might fancy the Indian chiefs, the original masters of
the soil, standing silent, but stricken to the heart to behold
the doom of their race gradually closing round them. The
bricks of which the house is built were made on the place,
and in one of them, before the hall door, the print of a child's
hand is visible, — perhaps an Indian papoose's, for there were
not many little white children to play and stray among the
woods, then still haunted by the red man : there it remains,
an emblem of benediction, a symbolic blessing of innocence,
on the house in which the history of human lives had not
yet begun. When Mrs. Logan went to live there, the estate,
already divided, stretched from Fisher's to Nicetown Lane,
and from the Germantown turnpike to the Old York Road, —
miles of softly swelling meadow, over which were scattered
magnificent oaks and maples, standing alone in perfect devel-
opment and dignity, groups of graceful beeches, and, the pride
of the place, an avenue of grand hemlocks, said to have been
planted by William Penn. The wide brook twisted through
an open valley, towards which the land slopes from the house,
sometimes between smooth green banks, sometimes with a
narrow reach of soft sand on one side, and on the other little
hollows thatched with the roots of tall trees; half its abundant
purling water was diverted into a mill-race, as clear and glassy
as the parent stream, which took a straighter course along the
farther side of the meadows, the grassy footpath beside it shaded
for its whole length by lofty, wide-spreading maples and but-
tonwood trees ; brook and race met at last, near one extremity
of the place, in a pretty little pond, bordered by woodland, at
the foot of the curving vale, near an old stone mill, where the
Logans ground their own corn. Besides the great house and
its dependencies which clustered about it, there was no other
building on the place, except a small farm-house near the head
of the vale. The sweetest rural solitude brooded over these
meadows, whether one sought them on a May morning, when
the grass was springing and the woodland bursting into early

DEBORAH LOGAN. 293

leaf, the ground covered with blue and white anemones and
tufts of the bright, red, slender, nodding columbine, the air
ringing with the notes of the shyest birds ; or on a summer
noon, when a humming silence possessed the fields, and the
only creatures stirring were the dragon-flies darting about
over the new-mown hay, or the cattle leaving the shade of the
great trees to straggle slowly down to drink at the fords of
the brook ; or when an autumn sunset was shedding double
splendor on the maples, and setting a halo round the dark
heads of the hemlocks, and the ground beneath them was
strewn with gold and crimson leaves, scattered there by the
brisk October breezes. Round the house there was the quiet
stir and movement of a country-place, with its large gardens
full of old-fashioned flowers and fruits, its poultry-yard and
stables. The latter were connected with the house by an
underground passage, which led to a concealed staircase and
a door under the roof, like the " priest's escape" in some old
English country-seats : this was a means of concealment or
flight from Indians ; and it was probably for the same ob-
ject that the offices surrounded the main building, connected
with it by brick courts and covered ways. They were all at
the back, and so disposed as to enhance the picturesque and
dignified air of the old mansion, the interior of which is as
curious to modern eyes as it is imposing. One enters by
a brick hall, opposite which is the magnificent double stair-
case, while right and left are lofty rooms, covered with fine
old-fashioned wood-work ; in some of them the wainscot
being carried up to the ceiling above the chimney-place,
which in all the apartments was a vast opening set round
with blue and white Scripture tiles of the most grotesque
devices. There are corner-cupboards, and, in some of the
rooms, cupboards in arched niches over the mantel-pieces, —
capital show-cases for the rare china and magnificent old
silver which adorned the dinner-table on state occasions.
Half the front of the house in the second story was taken
up by one large, finely-lighted room, — the library of the book-
loving masters of the place.

294 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

To this beautiful, venerable, romantic, yet withal most home-
like abode, came the young wife, with a field for all her natu-
ral tastes, love of the country, of flowers, animals, study, and
of society too, for during her husband's life it was the resort
of all the distinguished people whom the times brought to
Philadelphia, and few strangers, whether from abroad or from
other parts of America, passed through town without present-
ing themselves at the hospitable threshold of Stenton. Happy
years opened before the young couple. Next to medicine,
agriculture was Dr. Logan's favorite pursuit, and, being forced
by necessity to devote his attention to it, his farm soon became
a model of successful scientific husbandry. " I think I never
saw finer fields of clover and timothy than were at that time
to be seen at Stenton," writes Mrs. Logan : " he was also one
of the first who used gypsum as a manure, and its success at
the beginning was wonderful. Perhaps at no period of his
life did he experience greater happiness than at this, his in-
tervals of leisure being employed in reading authors of the
greatest utility in agricultural and political science, and he was
one of the foremost and most zealous advocates in whatever
he thought would promote the public good. The Agricultural
Society of Philadelphia, and a similar one for the county, were
among those objects. That for the county was first brought
together at Stenton. . . . Domestic manufactures, rightly
so called from being indeed the production of the farmers'
families, were a favorite subject of their encouragement; and
this gave scope to the ingenuity and industry of their wives,
and introduced us in a social and pleasant manner to each
other's acquaintance. I have not forgotten the agreeable in-
terchange of visits, the beneficial emulation, and the harmless
pride with which we exhibited specimens of our industry and
good management to each other. The spinning-wheel was
going in every house, and it was a high object of our ambition
to see our husbands and families clothed in our own manu-
factures (a good practice which my honored husband never
relinquished), and to produce at our social dinner-parties the
finest ale of our own brewing, the best home-made wines,

DEBORAH LOGAN.

295

cheese, and other articles which we thought ought to be made
among ourselves rather than to be imported from abroad."

Mrs. Logan's intercourse with her humbler neighbors was
marked by a true sense of human brotherhood, as well as the
most unusual and unselfish benevolence. In her diary there
is a minute of a visit to a cottage not far off: " The wife is a
pleasing, cleanly woman; she presented me with a piece of
nice, pure bees'-wax, which I accepted, having myself felt the
disposition which is unwilling to let those we are pleased with
depart without some token of its regard, even if it is small."
The sweet, unconscious graciousness with which she obeyed
these impulses must have added greatly to the charm of her
manner, to which everybody who ever saw her bears witness.
A lady who was once, when a very little child, taken to see
her, remembers that, on parting, Mrs. Logan, then an elderly
dame, gave her a little pincushion, saying, "Thee is a nice
little girl, and I give thee this to make thee remember thy
visit." These simple acts rose from a deep well of kindliness
in the nature, whence at need came strength for the greatest
and most generous self-abnegation. Mrs. Logan tells, in illus-
tration of her husband's humanity, an anecdote of his bringing
home a young farm-laborer who was stricken with smallpox
to be nursed at Stenton. The young man lodged with kins-
folk, who at the first hint of the nature of the disease rushed
out of the house, leaving him to his fate. Thereupon Dr.
Logan, with most exalted philanthropy, brought the poor
fellow home and tended him through the attack, which turned
out to be of the most malignant type, — confluent, — bringing
him back to health from the brink of a ghastly and hideous
death. The date of this incident is not given, but, in view of
the circumstances of Dr. Logan's life and some of the details
which are mentioned, it could hardly have happened before
his marriage; so that the fair young wife must have been
exposed to the contagion, even if she did not assist in the
nursing, and the credit is at least half hers ; but of herself she
says not one word in the matter.

Mrs. Logan was a very early riser, to which and a remark-

296 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

able order and system in the arrangement of her occupations
must be ascribed the almost incredible number of things she
accomplished without worry or flurry, or even the conscious-
ness of being a very busy woman. One of her daily duties
was to oversee the work of her maids ; another was the visit
to the kitchen, where she herself prepared the dishes preferred
by each member of her family, and made " cakes and mince-
pies, for which I have a great reputation in the neighborhood,"
she says in her diary ; she also did her own clear-starching,
for the fine lawn Quaker caps and kerchiefs require as light a
hand as lace; and gardening was another constant source of
employment. " In the morning I was busily employed in the
every-day recurring work which must be performed if we
would live in comfort, yet which leaves no trace of our in-
dustry for the morrow." But all this was dispatched before
the noonday dinner. In the leisure and repose of the after-
part of the day came the thimble or knitting-needles, the book
or pen, the interchange of friendly visits, for she was never
slack in her social duties, and, as we shall see, the cares of a
hostess were among those which constantly devolved upon
her. Yet there was time for gathering flowers and decorating
the rooms with them; even for feeding the squirrels, who
made their homes in the trees surrounding the house and
were on the friendliest terms with its inmates. Her husband
shared her love for animals, and tamed one squirrel so com-
pletely that it would come down from its high perch as he
sat at his door-step, eat from his hand, and search his pockets
for provender. To these dumb pets were soon added more
precious objects of tenderness and affection: sons were born,
— one in the autumn of 1783; a second three years later; a
third in 1791.

If we may judge by the love and respect, bordering on
adoration, with which Mrs. Logan inspired her grandchildren,
her relations with her own offspring must have been unusually
close and sacred. She promoted all their interests and pleas-
ures as far as lay in her power, and trembled lest her solicitude
for their happiness should interfere with her graver responsi-

DEBORAH LOGAN.

297

bilities to them. When the days of dependence were past,
she still strove to bind them to her by ties which should with-
hold them from temptations and dangers which she could not
avert. "Up at three o'clock on Second Day morning, in order
to expedite Algernon's setting off on his shooting expedition
with Alban before daylight. He left me affectionately, and it
is almost needless to say what I always feel at parting with
either of them, if it is to go to a distance. All my earthly
hope is centred on them, and most earnestly do I beg for a
blessing upon them and pray for their preservation. I think
I do not say enough to them in the way of caution and advice ;
but I fear to make them shun my company if precise and lec-
turing." But this is anticipating.

During the first ten years of her married life she continued
to see, as at her mother's house, many men of mark and im-
portance, who were drawn to America by sympathy with her
struggle for independence, or brought from other parts of this
country by their connection with the government. Among
the former was Kosciusko, who stayed at Stenton, and found
among those rural scenes some of that balm for the incurable

o

hurt of his noble heart which the companionship of Nature
only could administer. His kind hosts saw him again when
he was last in Philadelphia. He was ill, and Dr. Logan, who
knew him very well, went frequently to look after him, and
on one occasion took his wife. " His lodgings were in South
Third Street, nearly opposite to Governor McKean's; here,
in a small and but indifferently furnished room, I saw him on
his couch, and I do not think any one who had ever seen him
could ever forget his appearance. My heart was softened and
affected, and yearned towards him with mingled emotions of
admiration, respect, and pity. There seemed a halo round his
emaciated form that inspired both awe and tenderness. Yet
he was very cheerful; and I can remember particularly he
commended the love of animals and cultivating their attach-
ment as a source of innocent pleasure. I told him of the
gentleness and attachment of my Thetis, who was then in her
prime, and he was pleased in recollecting instances of their

298 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

sagacity and good qualities. He spoke of the pleasure he
derived from drawing, and produced a crayon of Jefferson, —
an exact likeness, — the attitude one I had often seen the
philosopher assume, but which I had never before seen
copied. When we rose up to take leave, he took my hand
and would have kissed it, but I bent over and offered him my
cheek."

The learned and witty Portuguese, Abbe Correa, was an-
other of the visitors, the author of half a dozen epigrams on this
country which have passed into proverbs, as that on Washing-
ton, " a city of magnificent distances," and " God takes care
of children, fools, and North Americans." His sayings are
quoted with so many variations that one cannot be sure of
having the correct version. The foreign ministers were
among her guests : she mentions Genet, who afterwards mar-
ried Miss Clinton, as " very pleasing in his address and much
of a gentleman in appearance and manner;" although by his
conduct at a public dinner in Philadelphia, one of his closing
scenes in this country, he left a deep disgust behind him.

Of her own distinguished countrymen no one probably
interested her as much as Dr. Franklin. " His conversation
was easy, and appeared to grow entirely out of the circum-
stances that presented themselves to the company; yet I ob-
served that if you did not find you had acquired something
by being with him, it must be placed to the account of your
own want of attention. His familiar letters give you a good
idea of his conversation ; a natural, good-humored (not sar-
castic) wit played cheerfully along and beguiled you into
maxims of prudence and wisdom. ... I have often thought
that Dr. Franklin must have sensibly felt the difference be-
tween the eclat which he enjoyed at the court of France and
the reception which he met with upon his final return to his
native country. The elements of two parties were then fer-
menting themselves into the form which they afterwards
assumed. The mass of Pennsylvania was, as it has ever been
since (and may I not say ever was ?), decidedly democratic,
but there was a contrary spirit then dominant, and thinly

DEBORAH LOGAN. 299

diffused over the surface of society, who rejected the philoso-
pher because they thought he was too much of that stamp.
The first Constitution of our State after the Revolution, which
was his work, though adopted by the great body of the peo-
ple, was disliked. And I well remember the remark of a Fool,
though a fashionable party man, at the time, that it was by no
means ' fashionable' to visit Dr. Franklin. . . . My husband
was in the habit of visiting him very often, and in his last ill-
ness frequently watched with him and spent many hours by
his bedside, and, finally, was one of those who, in compliance
with our ancient usages, assisted to bear the corpse of this
eminent man to the place of interment, the city watchmen
who were in attendance being set aside in favor of a still
more primitive custom, and their places supplied by some of
the most distinguished citizens." In these and other mentions
of Franklin Mrs. Logan shows delicacy and magnanimity, as
in the posthumous publication of his works the community
was surprised by most unwelcome censure of the conduct
of James Logan in his management of the colony. Her only
reference to this, after paying a tribute to his genius, is to
say, " What a pity there should have been any ' Errata' in
his moral conduct ! What a pity he should have stooped to
dishonor his pen by the false statements and glosses of the
' Critical Review of the Government of Pennsylvania' !" It is
so customary to carry personal hostility into politics, to debase
differences of opinion into quarrels, to resent strictures upon
one's public conduct or that of a kinsman as an attack and
affront, and to drag such grievances before the world, that this
moderation is the more admirable, especially with the ven-
eration in which Mrs. Logan held her husband and his family.
Timothy Pickering was another striking figure in the group
which gathered beneath the hemlocks or around the hearth-
stone of Stenton. Among them was the amiable and accom-
plished Robert Walsh, whose house, graced by a large family
of beautiful, brilliant daughters, and sons of unusual prom-
ise, was in later days one of the most delightful centres of
society in Philadelphia,— one of the few where talent and

300

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

acquirements were at a premium: he was editor of the
National Gazette, and Mrs. Logan's verses, published anony-
mously, find a place in its columns near extracts from Lord
Byron's last tragedy or poem. But the visitor named with
most pride is "The Father of his Country, then in Philadel-
phia officiating as President of the Federal Convention. He
came with his friend Daniel Jenifer, Esq., of Maryland, who
had often before been with us, and passed a day at Stenton in
the most social and friendly manner imaginable, delighted
with the fine grass-land and beautiful improvements. . . . His
praise conferred distinction. Nor did he make me less happy
by his pleasing attention to myself and his kind notice of my
children, whom he caressed in the most endearing manner,
placing my little boy on his knee and taking my infant in his
arms with commendations that made their way immediately
to a mother's heart." What a pretty picture ! For a back-
ground the fine old house and great dark evergreens ; the
handsome, stately figure of Washington, the childless man
whose heart ever warmed to childhood, with the lovely babies
upon his knees ; the young matron in the bloom of her beauty
losing all recollection of herself in her pride as a mother. In-
deed, Mrs. Logan's modesty is so thorough that it evidently
never once occurred to her that her own attractions of person
and mind had any share in drawing so many remarkable men
to Stenton; though it is impossible for her readers not to sus-
pect that they must have been strong ingredients in the uni-
versally recognized charm of the place. When her husband
is at home, they come for his society and conversation ; in his
absence, to show their respect for him. This was not General
Washington's first sight of Stenton : he had stopped there for
a few hours with his staff and suite in August, 1777, one of
the dreariest periods of the war. The house was not occu-
pied by the family at that moment, although a member of it
chanced to be there. The aide-de-camp and guard, preceding
the commander-in-chief by a few hours, had bought a sheep
of the tenant, which had been immediately killed and dressed.
The silence and preoccupation of the general and his whole

DEBORAH LOGAN. 3OI

party impressed their chance host as much as their considera-
tion and courtesy. General Washington recalled the gloom
and uncertainty of that other summer's day during the pleas-
ant hours he afterwards spent under the same roof. A few
years later, Dr. and Mrs. Logan were in their turn guests at
Mount Vernon, and there is a lively account of the visit in
the diary. On their arrival the general was going over his
farm with some friends, and they were welcomed by Colonel
Humphreys and Mrs. Washington, "who was exceedingly
amiable and affable, and received us with great politeness."
Before the return of the party from the fields, another guest
arrived, a Frenchman with a letter of introduction, who was
asked to stay to dinner. This gentleman, whoever he may
have been, was of the grinning, grimacing, gesticulating type
common in old-fashioned caricatures, more like a fop in a
comedy than a personage of real life, says Mrs. Logan. He
spoke very little English, but made up the deficiency with
bows and obeisances. When the general and his friends came
in, introductions took place, and there was some confusion, in
which he did not catch Mrs. Logan's name nor recognize her
in her riding-dress, so that he presently asked her some ques-
tion about the length of her stay in America, betraying that
he supposed her the wife of the Gallic visitor. "Eager to
repel the idea, I stood up, and, looking imploringly at the
general, said, ' I am an American, the wife of Dr. Logan.' He
arose, and welcomed me with the blandest courtesy. . . .
Soon after the cloth was removed, the French gentleman took
his leave, with much gesticulation and ceremony. After he
was gone, the general arose, and going to the door ascertained
that he had departed. He then smilingly addressed me and
said, ' Can you forgive me, Mrs. Logan, for supposing that
you belonged to that man ? I am astonished that I could
have done it for an instant.' " On their homeward journey
they called, in passing through Fredericksburg, upon General
Washington's mother. "She received us with great kindness
in her humble, decayed-looking dwelling, within which she
appeared to have things comfortable. She was quite old, but

302

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of a fine, majestic presence and polite manners, and the gen-
eral so much resembling her that she might be known for his
mother. She did not live apart for want of an invitation to
live with him at Mount Vernon, as both himself and Mrs. W.
informed us, but she preferred her humbler home. She spoke
of his kindness, and of her hope that things would continue
to go well with him, but not the least exultation was apparent
in having such a son. . . . For the general himself, never did
I feel such veneration and respect for any one clothed with
mortality as I felt for his person and character."

Dr. Logan's most intimate friend among the celebrated
men of America was the statesman whose aims and princi-
ples are the standing enigma and stumbling-block of his
countrymen, — Thomas Jefferson. The acquaintance began
when he took up his abode in Philadelphia as Secretary of
State, and long after his retirement from public life they kept
up their intercourse by letter. He was constantly at Stenton
during the years when he lived in Philadelphia, and his visits
were repeated from time to time after he left there. " His
conversation," we find in the memoir, " was very pleasing.
He had resided at the court of France, and upon his return
appeared in somewhat of its costume, and wore a suit of silk,
ruffles, and an elegant topaz ring ; but he soon assimilated
himself to a more republican garb, and was reproached with
going to the other extreme as a bait for popularity. He
abounded in anecdotes of great interest, and it appeared to
me that he did not often suffer political prejudice or party
spirit to warp his judgment and cause him to misrepresent
men and things ; yet I saw that he wanted sincerity towards
General Washington, whom I had always revered and could
not bear to hear mentioned in terms that implied the smallest
diminution of his character or qualities. ... I have often had
to regret that I did not at the time so fully appreciate the ad-
vantages which I have frequently enjoyed of listening to the
conversation of very eminent and highly-gifted men, and no-
ticing the profound and instructive remarks which have often
been made in my hearing, which, however, soon fade from the

DEBORAH LOGAN.

memory unless committed to writing. But I have not forgot-
ten the force and expansion of Jefferson's arguments, deliv-
ered in a beautiful simplicity of language, and a politeness of
manner that disarmed offence, yet with a strength that defied
refutation when Reason was admitted to sit as judge." She
was often present at confidential conversations between Jeffer-
son and other members of the government and foreign minis-
ters, at the time when his Gallomania had made him an object
of odium to a large class of his countrymen. Mrs. Logan does
not deny his enthusiasm for the principles of the French Revo-
lution, which her husband shared, while she, with a little shake
of the head, internally demurs to " the fitness of France to
assume the cap and mantle of liberty," and thinks them
" greatly mistaken in their opinion ;" but she maintains stead-
fastly that Jefferson never, in moments of the utmost intimacy
or excitement, admitted any proposition or idea opposed to
the rights and interests of his own country, but vehemently
upheld them. " One of these conversations, I remember, ended
with Genet's rising from his chair, where he had been seated
under the venerable trees that surround our dwelling, and, baf-
fled in argument, but retaining his good humor and gentle-
manly demeanor, he exclaimed, in his (then) imperfect English,
' Well, gentlemen, if my country were once happily settled in
peace and the enjoyment of her rights, as yours is now, I would
sit under my own vine and trees as you do, but I would dis-
claim political disquisitions altogether; I would never suffer a
gazette to enter my house.' ... I remember to have heard
Jefferson say that he greatly valued Mrs. Adams as a most sen-
sible and prudent woman, and he added that he had a file of
her letters which he much valued. The occasion of their cor-
respondence was the communication which her husband and
himself kept up when on their respective missions to England
and France. Mrs. Adams wrote for her husband, and fur-
nished the most valuable information (Jefferson said) that he
received." Jefferson had the highest regard for his Quaker
hostess, too, which in her modesty she either did not know
or would not mention. When the transfer of the seat of gov-

304 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

ernment to Washington put an end to his visits to Philadel-
phia, and later still, when he had withdrawn from public life
to his own beloved country home, in his letters to his old
friend he never fails to send " affectionate remembrances to
his dear Mrs. Logan."

Dr. Logan himself first went into public life at this period
as a member of the State Legislature, and his wife describes
the conscientiousness and assiduity with which he then turned
his attention to the study of politics, reading the works of
English and French statesmen, and pondering deeply the
problems which the condition of his own country presented.
There is nothing in this whole picture of habits and uses so
far removed from those of the present day as the image of a
member of the Pennsylvania Legislature immersed in the study
of what concerns the common weal. Where were his railroad
and mining bonds? What time could he give to the quota-
tions of the Stock Exchange ? When did he book himself on
the last whisky dodge? How was he ready to snap up the fat-
test cuts in a contract? What a laughable and pitiable figure
he would make now at Harrisburg, where they know tricks
worth a thousand of that ! Yet not in those days any more
than in these were disinterestedness and patriotism the gen-
eral rule, although baseness and venality did not show their
heads in such high places nor expose their tracks with such
gross contempt of common decency. Men were not charged
then with being bought or sold, or with having stolen public
property. They mutually accused each other of being enemies
to their country, and hated and execrated one another accord-
ingly, and were held up to the hatred and execration of con-
tending parties. Mrs. Logan, who was at every age keenly
interested in public events, describes the rage, which was not
all ignoble, by which the community was possessed. " The
dominant party scorned any longer to affect even the appear-
ance of moderation towards their opponents ; not only the
public acts of the Legislature were framed to keep them in
awe, but in the common offices and affairs of life they
were proscribed, friendships were dissolved, tradesmen dis-

DEBORAH LOGAN. 305

missed, and custom withdrawn from the Republican party, the
heads of which, as objects of the most injurious suspicion,
were recommended to be closely watched, and committees of
Federalists appointed for that purpose. Many gentlemen went
armed, that they might be ready to resent any personal ag-
gression." Dr. Logan had become very unpopular from his
intimacy with Jefferson, his liberal principles, and his sup-
posed predilection for France : he gradually came to be an
object of suspicion and obloquy, and was actually put under
surveillance. It was at this time that he formed a project
which excited great commotion when he carried it out,
although now one cannot look at it from either side without
a smile and an involuntary recollection of proverbs about
tempests in teapots and parturient mountains. Mrs. Logan,
notwithstanding her full and fervent faith in her husband's
weight and wisdom, admits that the scheme appeared to her
" romantic ;" but her memoir tells the story best. " In the
midst of this state of things my husband formed the project
of his visit to France with what then appeared to me the ro-
mantic idea of persuading the rulers of the aesultorious \sic\
government to alter the tone of their conduct towards the
United States. He thought they were not aware of our grow-
ing importance, and that the rashness and injustice of their
measures towards us \vould be the means of uniting us with
Great Britain and forwarding the views of the enemies of all
republics." Dr. Logan undertook this step with so grave a
sense of the possible consequences from the violence of the
Federal party that he gave his wife a power of attorney by
which she might on emergency so dispose of his estate as
to secure it from confiscation : this paper was acknowledged
before the chief justice, subsequently Governor McKean, and
Dr. Logan explained his motives and intentions. " Thank God
that we possess one man who is capable and devoted enough
to undertake this task !" exclaimed the impetuous, imperious
old magistrate. " You have my best wishes in the enterprise.'
And he drank to the success of the journey. Dr. Logan sold
some property to raise funds for his voyage, and sailed for

20

306 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Hamburg on the I3th of June, 1798. He had a certificate
of citizenship from Governor McKean, a letter of indorsement
from Jefferson, and introductions to Citizen Merlin, then at
the head of the French government, and Talleyrand, whom he
had not met in this country. These credentials, although
unofficial, were of the utmost importance to him in his self-
appointed mission. The slow-sailing craft in which he had
embarked, with its cautious Dutch captain, arrived safely on
the 23d of July, after stopping for a few hours at Dover,
where Dr. Logan was very much struck by the coast de-
fenses and accumulation of forces : it was said that there were
over three thousand in garrison at the castle. On landing at
Hamburg, Dr. Logan found extreme difficulty, as a citizen of
the United States, in getting passports for France ; but, while
he was struggling with opposition and obstacles, he heard
that the Marquis de La Fayette was living in the neighborhood.
He immediately sought the acquaintance of this noblest friend
of America, and laid his case before him. La Fayette showed
him all kindness, hospitality, and sympathy, and procured*
him a passport, by means of which he reached Paris during
August. He arrived immediately after the departure of El-
bridge Gerry, the last of our commissioners, who had with-
drawn without the ratification of an international treaty ; an
embargo had just been laid upon our shipping, and hundreds
of American sailors had been thrown into jail. These were
discouraging auspices : nevertheless he presented his letter to
Talleyrand, and endeavored to obtain an interview with Merlin.
The minister's conduct was perfectly consistent with the
trickiness, double-dealing, polished slipperiness, and affable
astuteness for which he became renowned in after-times. He
received Dr. Logan with civility, wasted his time with promises,
and set people to spy and sound him. Indignant and impa-
tient, the latter sought and obtained an introduction to Merlin,
through M. Schimmelpenninck, the Swiss and Bavarian min-
ister to France. Many pages of the memoir are devoted, natu-
rally, to this visit to Paris, the. dinners at various important
houses, including Merlin's, significant incidents which befell

DEBORAH LOGAN. 307

there, interviews and letters between Dr. Logan and different
members of the French government to whom he explained
his views and what he believed to be the wishes and demands
of the American people. He there fell in again with Kos-
ciusko, grateful for the kindness he had met with in America
and anxious to repay it by any service in his power. Dr.
Logan was certainly successful in obtaining the raising of the
embargo and release of the imprisoned seamen, which was the
first step to a peaceable understanding. The captains of the
liberated vessels at Bordeaux, nearly twenty in number, drew
up a testimonial expressing their grateful sense of his actual
services and their trust that he had prevented a war between
the two countries. With this satisfactory if not complete
result of his endeavors he took passage for home on the Per-
severance, Captain Gideon Gardner, of Nantucket, to sail from
Bordeaux. On his way down from Paris he was perturbed by
encountering stages full of Frenchmen just arrived from the
United States, where they had been imprisoned and ill used,
and who were so clamorous for revenge that Dr. Logan trem-
bled lest the Directory, depending on popularity, might be
driven to revoke the favorable measures he had just brought
about. However, nothing came of it, and with a light heart
he weighed anchor for home.

Meanwhile, the news of his having openly outwitted his
enemies by sailing away from Philadelphia under their eyes
had raised a storm of fury at home. Jefferson and McKean
were assailed with abuse and reproach by the press for having
given him letters, as the majority would believe nothing less
than that he had gone abroad in the interest of France to fur-
nish information to the detriment of his own country. So fixed
was this conviction that somebody whom Mrs. Logan calls " a
ffriendly Foederalist" warned her that the government in-
tended searching Stenton for treasonable papers, advising her
to destroy anything that might compromise him. " I thanked
the gentleman, but assured him that in case of a search they
would only have to regret that they had insulted a man of
honor in his absence. I had nothing to secrete." The fol-

3o8 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

lowing preposterous article appeared in Brown's Philadelphia
Gazette :

" We are assured from the best authority that Dr. Logan (a
noted and violent Democrat) departed from this city on Wed-
nesday or Thursday last, in the ship Iris, for Hamburg, on
his route to Paris. There cannot be the least question but
the doctor, from his inordinate love of French Liberty and
hatred to the Sacred Constitution of the United States, has
gone to the French Directory fraught with intelligence of the
most dangerous tendency to this country. . . . Can any sen-
sible man hesitate to suspect that his infernal design can be
anything less than the introduction of a French army to teach
us the value of true and essential Liberty by reorganizing our
government through the blessed operation of the bayonet and
the guillotine ? Let every American now gird on his sword.
The times are not only critical, but the secret of the junto is
out. Their demagogue is gone to the Directory for purposes
of destruction to your lives, property, liberty, and holy re-
ligion."

What his wife's feelings and sufferings must have been
it is easy to guess. She hardly speaks of them in the me-
moir, and her reticence is very touching. " Were it proper
here to speak of myself, I could say a great deal with the
strictest truth of the infinite anxiety of mind which I under-
went at this period. . . . Although I knew the purity of my
husband's principles, and could appreciate the motives upon
which he acted, yet when the time drew near for him to
leave me I could not help being appalled with a sense of the
difficulties which he would have to surmount, and the clamor
which would be raised upon his departure; so. that when he
left me indeed, I was as completely miserable as I could be
while innocent myself and united to a man whose honor I
knew to be without a stain. ... I was frequently a prey to
the most harrowing inquietudes." The Alien and Sedition
Act had just been passed, and Mrs. Logan was in agony lest
by any imprudence her husband should lay himself open to
the charge of treason by the letter of this law. She was con-

DEBORAH LOGAN.

sumed with anxiety to apprise him of it and put him on his
guard, but had no direct means of communication with him :
she sent two letters by roundabout ways, and, apparently, heard
from him but once or twice during his absence. Her mother
and family gathered about her, to console and cheer her:
she speaks of the kindness of friends and neighbors, Dr.
Samuel Betton, Sr., Major Pierce Butler, of Butler Place, the
Fishers, of Wakefield, already her connections by marriage,
and, what was still more deeply felt, the sympathy of old ac-
quaintance of the Federal party, among whom she mentions
Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Augustus Smyth "and the be-
nevolent John Vaughan." The friendliness which no doubt
seemed but a slight tribute of respect to those who paid it
sank deep into her heart, for she was told that whoever was
seen to enter her gates would be marked. That there was
no exaggeration in this may be seen by the following account
of a visit from Jefferson, then Vice-President, who, on the point
of starting for Monticello when he heard the outcry raised on
Dr. Logan's departure, put off his journey a week, " to see
what they would make of their conspiracy," as he said. " He
told me he had been greatly concerned for me on account of
the obloquy and abuse which had been freely bestowed on
Dr. Logan's character, and advised me to evince my thorough
consciousness of his innocence and honor by showing myself
in Philadelphia as one not afraid nor ashamed to meet the
public eye. He said that he could not have believed it pos-
sible that the utmost bitterness of party spirit could have in-
vented or have given credit to such unfounded calumnies ; that
he was himself dogged and watched in the most extraordinary
manner ; and he apologized for the lateness of his visit (for
we were at tea when he arrived) by saying that in order
to elude the curiosity of his spies he had not taken the direct
road, but had come by a circuitous route by the Falls of
Schuylkill along one of the lanes to Germantown, and, passing
by the house and gates, had come in by the entrance on the
York Road." (A detour of five or six miles.) "He spoke of
the temper of the times and of the late acts of the Legislature

3io WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

with a sort of despair, but said he thought even the shadow
of our liberties must be gone if they attempted anything that
would injure me." The brave woman soon followed his ad-
vice by going to town, where without flinching she ran the
gauntlet of cold looks, rude remarks, expressions of surprise
that she could seem gay and cheerful, or that she would be
seen at all. But she was not daunted, and continued to go
out and pay visits to her friends as if her life were flowing
with its former even tenor. One afternoon she was calling at
Roxborough, "at the seat of our worthy ffriend ex-Chief-Jus-
tice Smyth ; he was an Englishman and a Tory who had held
an office under the Crown during the Colonial government,
but he was a man of great honor, candor, and goodness, and
tho' they differed in politics, had a sincere friendship for my
husband. Here I found as usual a large circle of company,
amongst whom was George Clymer, Thomas Fitz-Simmons,
and several other Foederal gentlemen. I observed that they
talked together with much earnestness ; and at length one of
them (Fitz-Simmons) came to me and inquired, if he might ask
me, had I received letters from Dr. Logan ? and if so, what
was the state of things in France ? I told him briefly and
modestly what I had heard ; that the embargo was raised,
our seamen liberated and returning in our vessels, and a dis-
position for peace manifested on the part of France. (But
I imputed nothing to the exertions of my husband.) He re-
plied, that it was extraordinary news indeed, and he sincerely
congratulated me upon it. And our kind neighbor the judge
exulting exclaimed, ' You know, gentlemen, I have always
said that Dr. Logan would never disgrace himself nor injure
his country !'"

Her quiet attempts to put her husband's conduct in its true
light were not generally so successful. She sent an extract
from one of his letters to the Philadelphia Gazette, with a fuller
account of the circumstances of which she had given the party
at Judge Smyth's a synopsis : it was published with a sneer-
ing comment by the editor, wresting it from its evident pur-
port to a confirmation of public suspicion, though he is forced

DEB OR AH LOGAN. 3 1 1

to lower his tone from talking of a French army and the bay-
onet and guillotine, to "a train of French diplomatic para-
phernalia" and " delusive hopes of French justice." Cobbett
recommended that in case of Dr. Logan's return (which was
generally doubted) he should be put in the pillory, and his
wife with him.

It was in the midst of these cruel anxieties and humiliations
that Mrs. Logan had a new and terrible cause for alarm : the
yellow fever broke out in Philadelphia and spread over the
whole region with horrible rapidity. Mrs. Logan's aged
mother, Mrs. Norris, who had now for years lived in her
early home of Chester, had gone back thither after her visit
of sympathy to her daughter; but, as the pestilence raged
there with extraordinary virulence, she was persuaded to re-
turn to the purer air of Stenton. Her eldest son came with
her, and other members of the Norris and Logan families,
with their servants, sought refuge there from the plague-
stricken city, so that Mrs. Logan had more than twenty people
under her roof daily to provide for. " But this was better for
me than to be left in solitude." It is difficult for us to imagine
the condition of Philadelphia that autumn : all communica-
tion from without was forbidden ; a cordon sanitaire was es-
tablished round the city, on which a palpable curse seemed
to rest. I have heard an old gentleman of Germantown de-
scribe his walking to town — which did not then extend beyond
the Northern Liberties — with a young comrade, as a sort of
dare-devil escapade ; but when they saw the silent and empty
streets barred from approach, a sort of awe fell upon them, as
if the form of the destroyer might be met stalking amid the
desolation, and they turned back to their fields and lanes.
Mrs. Logan's eldest brother was laid low with the disease
directly after his arrival, and a period of intense dread fol-
lowed; but by careful nursing he surmounted it, and the
contagion did not spread to the household. The first frosts
checked the course of the epidemic, which disappeared as
mysteriously as it had come, and people returned to their
homes, many, many of which, alas! were left to them desolate.

312 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Mrs. Logan's family scattered in their various directions,
leaving her torn by the most opposite emotions. The autumn
was advancing, and she was in daily expectation of her hus-
band's return ; but the joy with which she looked forward to
their reunion was poisoned by her fears for what might ensue,
as she believed that he would be thrown into prison as soon
as he arrived; moreover, she heard that two vessels called the
Perseverance were to sail from Bordeaux on the same day,
one new and seaworthy, the other old and unsafe, and she
had no means of knowing in which her husband would em-
bark. Strange to say, both vessels came up the Delaware on
the same day. Rumors of their arrival reached Stenton.
Mrs. Logan received messages and visits of congratulation,
but still the day wore on, and she was in suspense. " My
sons, who were young mountaineers in their fearless habits
and love of the chase, had that morning taken out their favor-
ite spaniel, and by accident had wounded her. She was
brought to me to be nursed, and was accommodated with a
cushion near the fire. My youngest boy was put to bed, and
the others were reading with me in the dining-room, when a
step was heard on the piazza.. The wounded animal raised
herself, and, instinctively knowing the sound, strove to get to
the door. It opened, and in a moment the restored husband,
father, friend, and master found himself in the bosom of his
happy family, for our affectionate old Dinah,* who had like-
wise taken care of him in his infancy, hearing the joyful ex-
clamations, had brought Algernon from his bed to share in
his father's caresses, and, herself embracing his knees, blessed
God that she had lived to witness his return !"

This happy meeting took place in November, 1798. Con-
gress was about to assemble at Trenton, Philadelphia still
being considered unsafe in consequence of the recent pesti-
lence. The President was already there, and the heads of the
departments were on their way. Dr. Logan immediately pre-

* The servant whose presence of mind saved Stenton from being fired by the
British. She is buried in the family grave-yard.

DEBORAH LOGAN. 3 1 3

sented himself at the seat of government to report himself, and
exhibit his papers, if it should be thought worth while to ex-
amine them. On his way he fell in with his old friend General
C. C. Pinckney and his family, who were very glad to see him,
and they all breakfasted together at an inn, where others
bound in the same direction had halted. There was some
surprise manifested on seeing his cordial terms with these
high-toned Southerners. A great many people expressed
their astonishment on seeing him at large ; but a revulsion in
public feeling had begun, and he met with tokens of good
will on all sides: an inn-keeper who furnished him with a
horse and gig refused to be paid for it. He was received with
courteous coolness by the President, who did not approve of
self-appointed envoys, and other members of the government
intimated disapprobation of his course. Congress on assem-
bling passed a law providing against such cases in future,
which was popularly known as Logan's law. But there were
no reflections on his probity or patriotism, and he himself was
too profoundly penetrated with satisfaction at what he had
done to be disturbed by superficial annoyances. As the at-
tacks of the press continued, however, Dr. Logan thought it
due to himself and his family to meet them by a succinct
account of his journey to France, its motives and results, pub-
lished in the form of an address to his fellow-citizens. The
happiness of his loyal and devoted wife on his return was pro-
longed by a series of little excursions which they made to-
gether : to Chester, to see her mother ; to Wilmington, Dela-
ware, to shake hands with their cousins the Dickinsons, who
had been among her kindest, stanchest friends during the
trying six months which had just passed; to Morristovvn,
New Jersey, where Dr. Logan owned property, and where the
leading citizens waited upon him to thank him for his services
and tender him a public dinner, which, however, he gratefully
declined. We can fancy Mrs. Logan's exquisite enjoyment in
these short journeys : it was Indian-summer time, and she and
her husband jaunted about the smooth high-roads or hedge-
row lanes beside the Delaware, either in the family coach or,

314 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.'

what she would have liked better, with a horse and gig. The
fears, separation, and sorrow of the last half-year were over,
and she sat secure in her love, trust, and pride beside the
man who was her ideal of human excellence. But her inno-
cent triumphs were not to end in the private recognition of
her husband's worth. On their return from Morristown he
was waited upon by a deputation to ask him if he would ac-
cept the nomination for a seat in the State Legislature, just
fallen vacant. He was out at the time of the visit, and the
committee requested to see Mrs. Logan and inquire her hus-
band's mind of her in the matter. He accepted, and was
elected by a large majority, the first Republican victory, ex-
citing great exultation in the party. The Legislature then
sat at Lancaster; and he formed some new and valued friend-
ships among the members, chief of whom was " the venerable
Henry Muhlenberg." Dr. Logan represented the agricultural
interests of the community, and carried out his theories con-
sistently by his habit of wearing homespun clothes. " My
heart while I write," breaks out his wife in the memoir, " is
sensibly touched with the recollection of these minor but
most endearing traits of patriotism and regard for the welfare
and comfort of all classes of his fellow-citizens."

The next ten years of Dr. Logan's life were given up to
politics : at the expiration of his two years in the State Legis-
lature he was elected to the United States Senate, and re-
mained through the Seventh and Eighth Congresses, from
December, 1801, until March, 1807. Jefferson's change of
tactics upon his election to the White House was a disap-
pointment to the Logans; but who ever saw their hero raised
to the eminence which their enthusiasm claimed for him with-
out some after-reflections on the vanity of human expecta-
tions ? Dr. Logan, whose friendship with the President was
well known, was besieged by applicants for office, begging
for his influence in their behalf. It is refreshing to read of
the cool stiffness of candidates and politicians of those days
who did not subsist on the fear of constituents or the whims
of the crowd. Dr. Logan declined signing one petition in

DEBORAH LOGAN. 315

favor of the bearer, on the ground that he did not know the
latter. " ' Oh, sir, that is of no consequence : you know the
gentlemen who have already signed.' 'True, sir; but I do
not knowjjw/, and therefore you must excuse me.' The peti-
tioner went away in a very bad humor at his fastidiousness in
being determined to recommend none that he did not know."
Mrs. Logan does not appear to have accompanied her hus-
band in any of the temporary migrations and changes of abode
which were necessitated by his political life. There is no al-
lusion to any absence from Stenton, where home duties still
bound her and her boys were growing towards manhood.
Her existence among its tranquil cares and pleasures was
broken in upon by two heavy sorrows. At the close of the
year 1799 she lost her aged mother, who had ever been not
only an honored parent but a beloved and sympathizing friend.
Mrs. Logan drew a little sketch of her mother's life and char-
acter for the benefit of her descendants which gives a pleasant
account of her girlhood in Chester. " I have frequently heard
her speak of the happiness of her early life : the state of soci-
ety, sociability, kindness, good neighborhood that was among
them seemed to realize the Golden Age. . . . My mother was
an excellent woman, and of very good abilities ; she had re-
ceived a much better education than was usually bestowed on
daughters ; when she was young her mind was enriched by
an acquaintance with the best authors ; her memory was un-
commonly good, her disposition cheerful, and her conversation
instructive and entertaining. She was solid, prudent, affec-
tionate, and benevolent. The manner in which she conducted
herself after the decease of her husband, and the very able
manner in which she investigated and settled his affairs, se-
cured her the kindest friendship of his family and the esteem
and applause of all who knew her." But a far more tragic
grief came upon her the next year, one which always seems
to violate the appointed order of nature, and therefore to carry
an excessive and intolerable weight in its blow : her son Gus-
tavus died, a boy of such uncommon gifts that his mother
will not dwell upon them, lest " her pen might be thought to

3i6 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

be transformed by a parent's partiality into a flattering pencil."
He was nearly fourteen, and already showed great maturity
of judgment joined with courage, generosity, truthfulness, and
tenderness of heart ; he was, too, the youthful image of his
father; perhaps her favorite child. The circle of early friends,
too, now began to lose its links. The death of John Dickin-
son, her husband's kinsman and intimate friend, was deeply
felt by them both. It happened about the same time that
Dr. Logan withdrew from public life, declining renomination
to the Senate. His activity in behalf of his country, however,
did not abate. The signs of the times were already pointing
towards troubles which ended in the War of 1812. Encour-
aged by the belief that he had been formerly instrumental in
averting a war with France, Dr. Logan now determined on a
journey to England for a similar purpose, despite the special
legislation of which he had been the object on the previous
occasion. This time, indeed, he went under very different
auspices, for although, as before, he had no official capacity,
President Madison approved of the undertaking, and sent him
warmly recommended to our minister at the Court of St.
Jameses. The minister possibly did not relish the arrival of
a self-constituted plenipotentiary, whose position was certainly
anomalous, and did nothing to further Dr. Logan's views and
wishes. Although foiled and disappointed in the object of
his voyage, his visit to London was full of social interest and
enjoyment : he was received, to quote the words of one of his
English friends, " in the most suitable manner by the first
men both in and out of power." Besides seeing such as re-
mained of his boyhood's friends, the Barclays, etc., he made
the acquaintance of Sir Joseph Banks, Sir Samuel Romilly,
Sir John Sinclair, Lord Lansdowne, Lord Teignmouth, the
Duke of Bedford, Clarkson, Wilberforce, Vansittart, and many
others connected with the government, among the rest Arthur
Marquis of Wellesley, whose note asking for an interview is
preserved with a quantity of valuable autograph letters re-
ceived by Dr. Logan at the same time. His own deep con-
cern on the question of negro emancipation must have lent a

DEBORAH LOGAN.

keen edge to his pleasure in meeting the champions of the
abolition of the slave-trade. He also indulged his ruling
taste by attending many agricultural meetings, one at VVoburn
Abbey, and another at Holkham, in Norfolk, the seat of T.
W. Coke, Esq. At many of these the warmest feelings were
expressed for the United States, and the heartiest hopes that
the friendly intercourse between the two countries might not
be disturbed. However, when Dr. Logan came home, near
the close of 1810, matters were slowly drawing to a crisis.

This return to his country was final. He never left it again,
nor mixed in public affairs, though so actively interested in
them that he corresponded constantly with many leading
men, and went several times to Washington, still in hopes
that the war with England might be prevented. It was a
source of extreme distress to both himself and his wife, who
says that their emotions " could be compared only to the fear-
ful state of watching and distress which we feel when we see
a beloved individual struggling through the paroxysms of a
fever." To describe the condition of the public mind she uses
the admirable expression, " national happiness was suspended."
They were intensely interested, too, in European politics, fol-
lowing the career of Bonaparte with an attention and excite-
ment which seem, strangely enough, to have died out with
the days of tri-weekly steamers and hourly cable-dispatches.
Suspense is now limited to what will happen, not to what has
happened, and events known as soon as they occur impress
the imagination less than when they have been speculated
upon for a month.

After the peace of Ghent, in February, 1815, an era of calm
and placid enjoyment opened for Mrs. Logan, which must
have recalled the halcyon days of her early married life. She
had passed from the agitating events and emotions of her
youth and early middle age across the boundary of elder life,
keeping her freshness of heart and brightness of mind in un-
sullied transparency. Her husband's health, it is true, was
declining, but so gradually that there was nothing to startle
or alarm her, and they pursued the alternation of peaceful

3i8 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

seasons gladdened by all the cherished pleasures. Many old
friends were left to gather as of yore round the fireside or
under the hemlocks ; strangers of note still came to bring
variety and vivacity into the tranquil routine. Peter Dupon-
ceau was a frequent visitor, bringing Mrs. Logan supplies of
books; Dupont de Nemours, who had shown her husband
civility and kindness on his memorable visit to France, came
out to this country in 1815, and Dr. Logan hastened to pay
his respects to him at Wilmington and invite him to Stenton,
whither he afterwards came ; Colonel Pickering, too, past dif-
ferences forgotten, was often at their board ; John Randolph
of Roanoke once came for a day and night, impressing his
hostess very much.

She still performed her part in her neighborly circle with
alacrity, still made little excursions in the pleasant autumn
weather to see friends beyond an afternoon's drive. One of
these was Charles Thomson, known by his contemporaries as
" the Man of Truth," her life-long friend, he whose voice her
girlish ears had fancied they recognized in the reader of the
Declaration of Independence. He was now ninety years old,
but his faculties were, unimpaired. She gives many of his
recollections of Revolutionary times, among which one of the
liveliest is the story of how he became secretary of the first
Congress :

" I was married on a Thursday, and the following Monday
came to town to pay my respects to my wife's aunt and the
family. Just as I alighted in Chestnut Street the doorkeeper
of Congress accosted me with a message from them, request-
ing my presence. ... I bid my servant put up his horses and
followed the messenger myself to Carpenters' Hall, and en-
tered Congress. ... I walked up the aisle, and, standing
opposite the President, bowed and told him I awaited his
pleasure. He replied, Congress desires the favor of you, sir,
to take their minutes. I bowed in acquiescence, and took my
place at the desk. After a short silence, Patrick Henry rose
to speak."

Mrs. Logan was extremely fond of history and study bearing

DEB OR AH LOGAN. 3 1 Q

upon .it. In one of the roomy garrets of Stenton she found
a mass of papers relating to the early history of Pennsylvania.
" They had been very much neglected, and treated as useless
waste-paper, and were piled away in the garrets as worthless
rubbish, the very room they occupied being bestowed reluc-
tantly. She was not, however, to be discouraged by their
unpromising appearance and mouldy, worm-eaten, tattered
condition, nor the difficulty of deciphering that which ap-
peared at first as unintelligible as Egyptian hieroglyphics.
She devoted many years of her life in collecting, arranging,
systematizing, and copying these papers. Many thousand
pages of original letters relating to the colonial history were
neatly copied, with remarks and annotations." *

The beauty of her manuscript is remarkable. The hand-
writing is rather small, without being cramped ; as regular and
legible as the best type ; unlike a woman's writing, yet in no
wise masculine ; the last word of each page has a line to itselC
and is repeated at the top of the following one ; there is a wide
margin ; the paragraphs are distinctly broken ; the numerous
foot-notes are separated by heavy double lines from the page
above ; where letters, quotations, or extracts are introduced,
the difference is carefully designated ; the title or date, ad-
dress, signature, are all clearly indicated on separate lines.
It is the performance of one who thought emphatically that
whatever is worth doing is worth doing well, and who be-
stowed her utmost pains on whatever she undertook. These
were afterwards published by the Historical Society of Penn-
sylvania under the name of the Penn and Logan Correspond-
ence, with a preface by Edward Armstrong, Esq., the editor;
an account of the Penn family, by John J. Smith, Esq. ; a
short notice of Mrs. Deborah Logan, by Isaac Norris, Esq.;
and a memoir of James Logan, from her own pen. She also
undertook a series of biographical sketches or reminiscences
of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, but un-
fortunately gave up the idea, dissatisfied with the faintness

* Extract from notice of Mrs. Logan in the Penn and Logan Correspondence.

320

WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

of the outlines upon her memory after the lapse of so^many
years. She amused herself by writing verses which are
smooth, flowing, and very prettily turned, generally suggested
by the beauties of nature or some sentiment or feeling of her
own inner life. She kept a copious diary, which became by
degrees a companion and confidant, to which she resorted
often through the day, and in this she registered her poetical
effusions. In one place she says that, although she was fond
of the sonnet, it had always seemed to her " like putting the
muse into corsets." However, "on one of Anna Seward's
recipes" she very neatly executed a sonnet to Stenton, with
apostrophes, allusions to Flora, Zephyr, Eurus, and all the
old-fashioned figures and flowers of style. Several others fol-
low; but, to tell the truth, although Mrs. Logan's poetry was
as good as a great deal which was printed and vastly admired
in that day (as indeed was some of her own), it reads now too
much as if it had all been written by Anna Seward's recipe.
Yet her taste in poetry, to judge from, her quotations and
remarks, was for what was best of the best : she delighted in
Childe Harold, which she says " has in parts of it the very
soul of poetry : he transports me to the grand and impress-
ive scenes he so beautifully describes. . . . He clears the
rubbish from the antique fountain and bids its fresh and crystal
rill again sparkle in the sunbeams ; and oh ! there are many
passages that speak so indescribably to the heart and feelings
as to awaken a deep and powerful sympathy for the being who
could so gloriously express what you and himself have felt."
Milton was constantly in her thoughts, suggested by dawn,
by sunset ; and once in her diary she exclaims that " the
associations of poetry embellish life."

Her industry was unchecked by advancing years, and she
became interested in astronomy, lamenting that she had not
the apparatus necessary for pursuing the study seriously. She
alludes to this in an entry for January I, 1817, a wonderfully
mild day, when she has been able to collect a small nosegay
in the garden, — violets among other flowers. " Surely the
benevolent and all-wise Creator has decorated our earthly

DEBORAH LOGAN. 32I

habitation with a profusion of delights and beauties, and
opened a source of the most delightful entertainment to the
mind in the discovery and contemplation of the laws by which
He governs the universe. What may we not expect of felicity
will be prepared for the good in a more advanced state of
being? This is the first dawn of existence, and we are to
progress in virtue and knowledge through eternity."

This vein of piety pervaded her whole nature, rising from
its most hidden depths to its sunny surface. In the memoir
of her husband, although she keeps herself in the background
throughout, unconscious expressions of a devout and fervent
faith are constant ; in her diary aspiration is half her life. She
says that her books of devotion are "the Bible, Thomas a
Kempis, No Cross No Crown, Archbishop Tillotson, Fenelon,
and the Apology." The time was at hand when she would
need all the support and consolation which religion could
give, all the resources of her well-disciplined mind and stead-
fast, submissive character. In April, 1821, she lost her hus-
band, her paragon of men. He died after a long illness which
had succeeded to a slowly lowering state of health. From
that time her life was chiefly in the past. Her kindly sympa-
thy for others, her cheerful unselfishness, which kept her own
regrets and longings out of sight, her happy habit of constant
occupation, above all, the total absence of egotism in her com-
position, led the juniors who knew her in her widowhood to
hold her an unusually gay and lively person for her years.
And so serene and rational old age is often judged by a
younger generation. It is hard for those who are still in the
thick and heat of life, with present joys, griefs, hopes, fears,
love, and hate thronging about them, to believe that those for
whom to-day and to-morrow can bring but one last change
should know anything of the keen and eager emotions which
fill existence with impatience and unrest. Resignation is
taken for satisfaction, tranquillity for indifference, silence for
oblivion. Such an unselfish and serene old age was Deborah
Logan's, but it was so because she had striven for self-control
and submission in earlier years, and endeavored so to keep

322

IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

the balance between spiritual and outward demands that the
hands should mark the hour, the heart and conscience chime
in concert, up to the very last. She outlived her husband
many years, during which she found some consolation in
writing his biography and retreading in memory the long
path they had traveled hand in hand. She never ceased to
mourn him, and, amid the calm routine which her diary
records, her thoughts turned to him perpetually. A few ex-
tracts will illustrate the beauty of her character and life better
than pages of comment and eulogy. Rather a curious cen-
sorship was exercised upon this journal after it had been
gathering volume for many years. Mrs. Logan had the prac-
tice of noting down the interesting or amusing conversations
which took place in the varied society in which for so many
years she took part ; but when all the more conventional inter-
course had ceased, and her circle had slowly narrowed to a
few old friends of quiet antecedents, one of them, a strict
Quakeress, persuaded Mrs. Logan that these reminiscences
savored of worldliness and frivolity and were inconsistent
with " our peaceable testimony." Accordingly, the two went
carefully over the manuscript, erasing with laborious thor-
oughness all mere chit-chat. Mrs. Logan testifies to her
lively relish for general conversation by a sly reference to
having had, in company with some friends, " a blameless cup
of tea, — that is, without scandal." This revision destroyed
what would have been no doubt a most delightful collection
of anecdotes and ana of a highly interesting period in Amer-
ican society, when its centre was at Philadelphia and its
leading figures were historical personages. But we must be
thankful for the pictures of political and domestic life which
are left.

"November 30. — A dormant jerboa was brought me to-day,
which one of our men ploughed up. Its nest was pretty deep,
and very comfortably and curiously made of dry grass and
pieces of small stubble. I covered it and put it into a closet
where I have had another one living for some time, well fed,
and not yet fallen asleep. The dormant one is very fat. The

DEBORAH LOGAN. 323

next day the little creature, having been so disturbed by its
removal, gradually awakened, but did not appear to have
regained its usual activity; however, it afterwards made its
escape down to the other one's habitation in the closet, where
they continue to take the food I provide for them."

" August 8. — I had several walks and rambles out of doors
to-day, and saw my poor little ground-squirrel busily em-
ployed in fetching nuts from a distant tree for his winter
store ; at which I assisted him by leaving a heap at his door-
way : and it called to my mind the beautiful little fellow that
my husband tamed so completely." On a winter morning
she describes the little family assembled round the stove, —
Bear, the big dog, Jerry Lodge, the little black cat, and a
young chicken, all demeaning themselves with propriety and
harmony ; adding, " To have the animal world about you
happy and inoffensive to you and each other makes no in-
glorious part of paradise, in my opinion."

" October 6. — It is a cold north wind and a silvery-looking
sun. I am fearful of frost. My neglected garden looks sadly;
but still it affords double balsam, nasturtions, and Queen
Margarets for Flora's altar and the parlor-table. An old-
fashioned glass pyramid set up in the corner of the hall above
the triangular table, and filled with glasses of flowers fanci-
fully disposed, constitutes the altar. No one can tell how
much innocent enjoyment I have derived from flowers."

" October 18. — It is now autumn, daily fading into ' the sere
and yellow leaf;' the sun is seen through a haze ; the air is
so bland and temperate that it might be mistaken for spring ;
but the days are shortening apace. The wasps are flying
against the windows in pursuit of some sheltered situation
for winter; a few birds with dissonant notes instead of song,
among which I discover the blue-jay and the robin; the
afternoon sun seems impatient to reach his goal in the west ;
and the nights are long and chilly and dark. It all answers
to myself; and to-morrow, if I live to see it, I shall have
completed the sixty-first year of my age. Let me not do it
without an act of devotion."

324 IVOR THY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

" Thursday morning, before daylight. — I am up thus early
to accompany my dear children to see our venerable connec-
tion and friend Charles Thomson once more. It is all silent
round me. Jupiter, just below the Seven Stars, is,brightly
shining overhead ; the Dogstar sparkles with prismatic ray,
the morning moon is up, and the attendant lamp of Venus
hangs below her in the east; the cocks all over the neigh-
borhood are ' scattering the rear of darkness thin.' "

" I have done my usual morning work, and had my dinner,
and yet it is not much beyond the hour of noon, — an hour
of quiet, generally, in the country : people pause and rest a
little before they again go to their labor. There is often a
stillness in nature, I imagine, at the hour of noon, and I ex-
perience it delightfully now: nothing but the clack of a distant
winnowing-fan interrupts the solemn and sweet breathing of
Zephyr on the strings of my ^olian harp. I often want words
to express my feelings, and I am sure I do at this time. The
thought of other years, and the remembrance of dear and
loved friends, — and one tender and cherished affection which
now mingles with all my thoughts and visits me in everything
I meet. — Several hours have passed : it is a sweet and solemn
afternoon ; dark and bright clouds intermingle with patches
of bright blue sky. Part of the family are gone out, and the
rest are very quiet. The house is clean and shut up; the
hall dressed with wild flowers and grasses and Catalonfan
jessamine."

" June 6. — First Day was spent pleasantly, though partly
alone. I passed the afternoon in the library, which is my
most agreeable apartment in summer, where I am quiet and
retired from noise and interruption, cool, and shaded in the
most delicious manner by the fine old trees that surround our
venerable dwelling, — the glycene and ivy forming the most
beautiful festoons and drapery around the southern window,
which emits a softened light over my writing-table. Or, if
I choose to read, the easy and low seat of an old sofa brought
by my grandmother from England in 1708, and surrounded
by books, most of them, indeed, in unison with everything,

DEBORAH LOGAN. 325

and savoring more of the past than the present. Here and
alone I like best to be ; not but that the society of my friends
gives me real pleasure, and I am sure it is useful, conversation
eliciting many things from the mind that I have not found in
books, and rendering life much more pleasant by binding us
to each other."

She frequently speaks of sitting round the dining-room
table in the evening with the "damsels" or "little maids,"
who quilted or sewed while she read aloud to them, while
Poll, her parrot, perched on the handle of her work-basket.
Sometimes the name of some famous stranger fell into the
quiet round of her daily existence and broke its surface with
memories and regrets. When La Fayette paid his last visit
to this country, a sorrowful unwillingness that he should pass
by without a greeting from Stenton stirred Mrs. Logan to
write him a letter, a sort of tribute to represent the welcome
he would have had from her husband had he been upon earth.
At another time she writes, " The Governor of New York,
De Witt Clinton, who is at present on a visit to this State,
is to breakfast to-morrow at Reuben Haines'; and there has
been a time in which I too should have seen him. It seems
as if it were hardly right for strangers of distinction to be
unnoticed at this house ; but there is nothing now to attract
their notice, unless it is the grave of one of the best of men
and most patriotic of citizens." In her habitual modesty and
low estimate of herself, it never occurs to her how glad these
fine birds of passage might have been to see and speak with
her if she had only given them the opportunity. She thought
that whatever interest or consequence had ever been hers
came from her husband and expired with him. The affec-
tionate reverence of a whole neighborhood gave her no higher
idea of herself.

"April I. — I have been employed to-day in getting some
improvements made in the inclosure where the remains of
my dearest love are deposited. There is something very
touching in this resting-place, the source of his pleasures in
childhood. A pewit continues to build her nest in the case

3:6 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

below attached to one of the large hooks drove into the
roof of the vault, the old hereditary place, if not nest, for I
have heard him say one had always built there when he was a
boy. I long to have the place completed, and perceive it will
be a most acceptable place of musing to me, and where I hope
to lay beside him, the beloved friend and companion of my
life, whose removal has made life more like a desert than
the cheerful, pleasant existence which it used to be."

" As to suitable reflections, I trust I am somewhat the better
of those I have made ; but of good resolutions which I have
not kept I am ashamed, and, humble and doubtful of myself,
can do no more bat hope that I shall endeavor, though at the
eleventh hour, to labor more earnestly. Life recedes — eternity
advances."

"December 29, 1832. — The season and my own age have
suggested the following :

" Oh, say not Time, with sweeping wing,

Damps the best feelings of the mind,

Say not his scythe, that sweeping thing,

Can level thought, or fancy bind.
I cannot bear to see Decay
Usurp the place where Reason lay.

" Methinks it might the wizard please

To stamp his ruin on the face,
To mark his grasp the victim seize,

And the fine form bow in disgrace.
Were this his aim, he'd welcome be,
So he would leave my mind to me, —

" Leave me the dreams of other years,

Leave me the free expansive thought,
The courage which supports from fears,

The kindness kindred feelings wrought :
Then could I bear Time's spoils to see,
So he would leave my mind to me."

This fervent prayer was fully answered. The years passed
and life ebbed gently away, taking only the physical powers
with it, — although one deep grief came between her and the
setting sun. In 1835 she lost her youngest son, Algernon

DEBORAH LOGAN. 327

Sydney, in the prime of manhood; but her gaze had long been
fixed on the goal, and while she sorrowed she knew it could not
be for long. Younger and still younger generations grew up in
affectionate respect of the old lady who had heard the Decla-
ration of Independence read, and who still, far on in another
century, sat at her tea-table under the hemlocks, all dignity
and benevolence, in her cap and short-gown, not more alive
to the recollections of that by-gone time than to the charities
and courtesies of the present. John Watson, Esq., author of
the Annals of Germantown, while compiling his work, used
daily to stroll down to Stenton, to draw reminiscences and
verifications from that untroubled well of memory. In the
spring of 1838 there is a charming description in her diary
of a visit from a neighbor's baby, a little thing not a year old
who woke every maternal chord in that gentle breast, and
lighted up the day with a gleam of pleasure which marked it
with a white stone. Late in October of the same year she gives
a long account of a visit from an ardent young Englishwoman
who lived in her neighborhood, and who discoursed to her
first about the condition of Ireland, "and then, by a natural
transition, as it seemed to me, adverted to the condition of
the slaves in the West Indies and in this country, and
said things which might have commanded audience in the
senate of her own country, and — shall I add ? — might have
abashed mine." The topic leads Mrs. Logan back to recall
and compare the views of the anti-slavery leaders of her
youth and speculate on the results of the policy of expe-
diency pursued by our government on this question. Her
mind is as clear, her interest as deep, as when she used to
listen to Jefferson and Madison and hold her peace while she
kept her own opinion.

Three months later the spirit fled from its enfeebled case
back to the Hand which sent it forth, as undimmed and spot-
less as in the hour when it came upon earth. Sorrow and
love and reverence followed her to her resting-place in the
beautiful little burying-ground at Stenton, where she lies
beside her adored husband, among the children who went

328 WORTHY WOMEN OF OUR FIltST CENTURY.

before and followed her. But one survived, — Albanus, the
eldest, who married his kinswoman Miss Dickinson, and left
four children: Elizabeth, first wife of Dr. Thomas Forrest
Betton, and Gustavus, who are dead, Miss Mary Norris
Logan, and Dr. Jonathan Dickinson Logan.

By her unambitious industry she has erected a monument
to herself in her valuable contributions to the history of the
State, the MSS. of which belong to the Philadelphia Library
and are in the archives of the Pennsylvania Philosophical So-
ciety. Her memory lives on as a tradition of charm and
worth, a lovely impersonation of female excellence, a lady of
the old school, a pure, ideal Quakeress.

SARAH BUTLER WISTER.

THE LIBRARY
IVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

Santa Barbara

THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
STAMPED BELOW.

Series 9482